


Poem Without Words

by totheendoftheworldortime79



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 192,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheendoftheworldortime79/pseuds/totheendoftheworldortime79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking to make some extra money, college senior Emma Swan takes a post as a model for Professor Killian Jones’ art class. Sparks fly on both sides. Will they give into temptation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You've got to be kidding me.”

Emma scowled at the screen, convinced there had to be a mistake. She couldn't be _that_ short. She'd never get that internship if she couldn't save enough money to live in the state capitol for three months.

“What's wrong?” Elsa asked warily. Elsa had learned early in their freshman year to be wary of Emma's moods. Elsa's gentle temperament smoothed out Emma's rough edges; it was why they remained friends after being thrown together randomly in the dorms.

Emma still scowled at her laptop. “Financial aid got dispersed.”

“And?”

Emma sighed. “According to this, I only have a few hundred dollars left over.”

“Did they not deposit it in your account again?”

“No, it's there, just not as much as I thought.” She tossed a pen into the wall; it made a dull thud against the drywall. The miniature violence did not make her feel better.

“Your tuition's covered, right?”

“Yeah, but I needed that extra cash to cover getting that internship at the AG's office, remember?” Emma was starting her senior year, in the process of finishing a degree in criminal justice. When her professor mentioned the state attorney general was offering a summer internship, Emma knew she had to get it. It would be the ideal thing before starting law school.

Elsa's face fell. “Right. Sorry. But you still have some time. Maybe you could get Granny to give you some more hours?”

“Do you want me to come home smelling like stale coffee and pastry every night? Yuck.” Like many college students, Emma had a job; she worked almost thirty hours a week at Granny's 24 hour diner. Granny Lucas was the best, accommodating to crazy study schedules and tests, giving Emma the money to do important things like eat, put gas in her Bug and pay her share of the rent. But it was barely enough to live on.

This was a college town and almost all the jobs reflected that fact.

Emma closed her laptop with a snap. “Besides, I still need to study for the LSATs. Can't do that if I'm spending all my free time at the diner.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Try to sweet talk the bursar?”

Elsa looked stern. “Emma, I don't think a short skirt and a wounded little girl act is going to work in this case.”

Emma shrugged. “Won't know until you try, right?” She wasn't actually going to do that. But it couldn't hurt to check and make sure a mistake hadn't been made.

First thing the next day, Emma stood in line for three hours waiting to see the bursar. It was the first day of classes; it looked like no one was actually  _in_ class, they were all milling around the bursar's office. Emma got nothing for her trouble, just an apologetic look and a pat on the hand by the kindly old lady who worked there. Dejected, Emma caught the campus loop to her only class of the day, silently wondering how she was going to earn the cash she needed.

When she got home, Elsa practically shoved a flier in her face. “Emma! Look!”

“Geez, Elsa, lemme get in the door,” she grumbled, taking the flier from her friend. Emma dumped her bag and examined the flier. “A model?”

Elsa was bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I saw this when I went to class this morning. Professor Jones is looking for a model for his figure drawing classes. It's perfect!”

Emma blinked. “Sorry, did you say  _figure drawing?”_

Elsa, who was an art major herself, didn't bat an eye. “Well, yeah. It's not a big deal. I took it!”

“Elsa, you sculpt.”

“Basic requirements, Emma. You know how this works. Anyway, all you have to do is show up a handful of hours a week. You sit still and let them draw. Easy.”

“Have you ever known me to be the 'sit still' type?” Emma said in exasperation, using her patented air quotes.

“You can spend your time staring at Professor Jones,” Elsa continued as if Emma hadn't spoken. “Everyone else does.”

“Elsa...”

“Emma, have you seen him? His classes are always packed because girls trail after him like lost puppies! He's got that tall, dark handsome thing going on. _And_ he's got an accent.”

“Maybe _you_ should model for him.”

Elsa looked at her in horror. “No way. An artist is never her own subject.”

“What about self portraits?”

“Emma, be serious. You need some extra cash. Something that doesn't clash with your schedule. You're on campus _anyway_ , hanging out in the library. A short walk to the art building doesn't seem like that big a sacrifice.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but promptly closed it. Elsa had a point. Judging by the flier it was a relatively painless job, that paid decently and only required a few hours of her time. From a practical standpoint, it seemed to be the answer to all her problems. “What about this Professor Jones? He's not some weird perv, is he?”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “He seems perfectly sane. He's very polite, respectful. We had two models when I took that class and he was very nice to them. The only complaint I've ever heard about him is that he seems to be immune to his fangirls.”

Emma snickered. “Fangirls?”

Elsa grinned. “Remember that scene from Indiana Jones? It's like that, multiplied by about ten. He's single as far as anyone can tell. He just doesn't date.”

So much gossip in the art department! “Maybe he's gay?”

Elsa shook her head. “Definitely not.”

“How do you know?”

“Emma, I'm an artist. _Trust me._ If that man is gay, I'll eat a handful of modeling clay.”

“Well, we wouldn't want that.” Emma looked at the flier again. “I just don't know if I'd be cutout for something like this.”

Elsa put her hands on Emma's shoulders. “Are you kidding me right now? He'd be crazy not to take you. I can't really vouch for the quality of the students, but they would have a very pretty subject.”

Emma flushed. It wasn't that she was arrogant or immodest. It was more of spending most of her time trying to get people to see  _past_ her pretty face and take her seriously. She worked really hard, got top grades. This...would solely be about her physical appearance. But it was a job. There were worse things she could do than let some beginner art students draw her for a semester.

“I'll stop by, okay? He'll probably have the spot filled before I even get there.”

Elsa smiled happily and offered to make them some dinner before Emma's shift at the diner.

* * *

Killian sat morosely at his desk. His teaching assistant had dropped off the head shots of the usual suspects; young would be models who desperately wanted to be the subject for his class. Generally, he only went to them as a last resort, preferring to employ a struggling student or two. He remembered all too well how much school cost; easing that burden seemed like a good thing to do.

Killian's own work sat untouched in the corner. The blank canvas taunted him, but he couldn't bring himself to work. Over the last couple of years, he felt more and more of his passion for art fade, almost like a part of him had dried up. He'd come to teaching almost by accident, inspired by one of his own professors back in England. But he'd always had time for his own work, using his own experience with creating to infuse his teaching.

He wasn't sure what was eating at him. His brother was fine, working his way up the corporate ladder in London. He mocked Killian endlessly for taking the job in America, not truly understanding the reason Killian wanted to get away. He'd kept his relationship with Milah a closely guarded secret, hence her betrayal hit him doubly hard. Rather than listen to his brother's lecture, Killian decamped for America, seeking a fresh start.

He got it, taking up residence in the quiet Pennsylvania college town. There he could teach and draw and paint, allowing his wounded heart to heal. The pain lessened with time, eventually scabbing over as he gained perspective. He liked his little home, he enjoyed his job. It was quiet and secure. But more and more he felt a restlessness creeping in, sapping his creativity. In class, he moved by rote, hands moving in practiced strokes, but there was no feeling in it, no joy. When he tried to work from his little home studio, he either didn't create at all or what he did manage was so awful he chucked the drawings in the bin.

He was becoming a joke, even to himself.

A fist rapped lightly on his office door. “Professor Jones?” a female voice asked. His desk faced the wall; he had to turn to see his visitor. He was already opening his mouth to dismiss her...until their eyes locked.

Soft emerald eyes. Sparkling with intelligence. Wit. Determination. Framed by thick black lashes. Killian blinked, trying to remember how to breathe. Slowly, he took in the rest of her face. The girl—no  _woman_ judging by the soft curves—was stunning. High cheekbones, delicate features. Lips pink and parted in a nervous smile. Long golden tresses that hung almost to her waist. It stunned him how badly he wanted to run his fingers through it, feel the smoothness.

Even as casually dressed as she was, Killian saw she was  _beautiful_ . There was an air about her that called to him, a pull so strong it shook him. He gave his head a little shake; she was speaking and he wasn't even listening.

“Sorry to bother you, Professor. Your TA said you'd be here.”

Killian snapped his attention back into place, adopting a professional demeanor. “May I help you, Miss...”

“Swan, Emma Swan.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “My roommate took your class a couple of years ago? Elsa?”

Killian thought. “Oh yes, I remember. Talented lass. She's in the sculpture track, if I recall.”

Emma visibly relaxed. “Yeah. Anyway, she mentioned that you were looking for a model for your class? Is that spot still open?”

Killian looked her up and down. She was pretty enough to be a model, but he suspected that wasn't her true vocation. “Have you ever modeled before, Miss Swan?”

Emma shook her head. “No. I'm a criminal justice major.”

“And what makes you think you'd be right for this? It can be frightfully boring. I suspect you're not fond of boring.”

Emma cocked her head in surprise, eyes widening a little. Clearly, he'd hit a bit of a nerve. “I can do it,” she said stubbornly. Fiery, he liked that.

Still, this was a job. “But why this?”

Emma hoisted her heavy bag higher on her shoulder. His artist's eye took in the fluid way she moved; it intrigued him. “Honestly?”

“That would be preferable, as to not waste either of our time.”

“I'm just trying to earn some extra money so I can apply for a summer internship at the Attorney General's office,” she said seriously.

“Planning on law school?”

“Is there something wrong with law school? Or is it _me_ you have a problem with?” she snapped.

Killian chuckled. “Who says I have a problem with you?” He stood. “This is clearly a job of last resort. You don't like getting special treatment because of your looks. And yet, here you are, willing to ply those looks to help further your career of choice. There's no shame in that. It shows a  _flexibility_ that could be vital to you excelling in this task.” As he spoke, his voice dropped; it was quite unconscious, but he enjoyed the way her cheeked tinged pink all the same. “Think of it as a challenge, Miss Swan.”

“A challenge?” She raised a curious brow at him. Only the slight twinge in her jaw gave away that she was anything _but_ indifferent to him. He didn't know why he cared so much, but this was the most alive he'd felt in ages.

“Miss Swan, I have an entire pile of photographs on my desk. Pictures of people who would love to have this job. Shallow, vapid people who live on their pretty sculpted faces. But you...you're _real_. I think you are just the challenge my students need.”

Emma raised her chin defiantly, those gorgeous green eyes burning with a desire to meet his challenge. Yes, she would be the most intriguing subject. And perhaps not simply for his students. “When do I start?”

“Friday? Intro course starts at 10:05.”

“I'll be there.”

* * *

Emma showed up to the designated room fifteen minutes early on Friday. Part of her wondered what in the  _ hell _ she was thinking by actually going through with this, but she just wasn’t the type of person to back down from a challenge. Maybe that made her stubborn and obstinate. Or bull headed as Elsa liked to say.

It had served her well in the past, so why not?

The why not stepped into the room five minutes after she did. Professor Jones (should she call him Dr. Jones? Did you need a doctorate to teach art?) seemed a bit preoccupied when he came in, taking a minute or so to notice her.

“Ah, Miss Swan. Thank you for being so prompt.”

_ Do not let him see anything _ , she reminded herself as she kept her face impassive. “I’m usually early. Is there anything I need to know?”

Jones laid aside his briefcase; Emma noticed the charcoal smudges on his hands. Had he been working before showing up? Drawing? Why did she even care? She lived with an artist; sometimes even calm Elsa woke up in the middle of the night to make a rough sketch of something she wanted to sculpt. Emma had learned to cope with the quirk.

He smiled and started to speak, explaining what exactly would be required of her, but Emma only half paid attention. Which irked her because she  _ always _ paid attention. Being focused and driven got her good grades and better than decent shot at getting into some top law schools.

_ Damn you, Elsa.  _ When Elsa had described her former teacher, Emma pictured someone older; older men could be attractive. Not to  _ her _ but then again she and Elsa had very different taste in men. All of Emma’s professors were in their late thirties to fifties; it was what she knew. Hence she was not prepared when she met Professor Killian Jones.

He discombobulated her from the moment their eyes met. His were a forget-me-not blue, initially a bit dull, but sparking to life as they spoke. It made him look even younger than he was and he was  _ much _ younger than Emma expected. Late twenties, perhaps? He was taller than her, inky black hair that was a bit unruly, cheeks and chin covered in scruff. His button down shirt was open at the neck, revealing dark chest hair. Honestly, he reminded her more of a rocker than a professor.

But then, as now, it was that voice that really got to her. She didn’t want to believe she was  _ that _ girl, the kind who swooned (and Emma Swan absolutely did not swoon, next question) over an accent, but Jesus Fucking Christ. His voice was smooth as silk, settling deep in her gut. As their conversation continued it got lower, as if he was relishing pushing all her buttons.

And  _ that _ scared the shit out of her.

Emma wasn’t an outgoing person; she kept to herself, only had a small circle of friends. It wasn’t her nature and she was too busy anyway. Elsa was one of the few people she’d opened up to about her past and that had been over an insanely expensive bottle of Jack. So for this man who barely knew her to so blatantly call her out on her issues...she reacted in typical Emma fashion, with sarcasm and confrontation. The he’d all but said she couldn’t do the stupid job and that was the last straw.

So here she was two days later in a room with the man and waiting for a bunch of freshmen and sophomores to try their hand at drawing her. Damn her pride.

But she wouldn’t back out. And she did need the money from this job. All she had to do was ignore Killian Jones. Easy.

“Nothing too strenuous today, Miss Swan,” Professor Jones was saying. “Just a simple portrait. All you need to do is remain still and let your mind wander. Or not.” He smirked. “Whichever you prefer.”

“Right,” Emma replied. She looked up at the raised platform in the front of the room. “Up there?”

“Aye. I’ll start class, introduce you, then let them work. Observing. Sure you can handle it?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “No problem.” She turned her back on him and stalked up to the little platform, digging a book out of her bag to read until her attention was required.

The room was already filling; this intro course had about fifty students. Chairs and easels cluttered the space; everyone seemed to have claimed their place, some of the looking at Emma curiously. One or two of the boys eyed her appraisingly, which she ignored. The last thing she needed was some pimply freshmen to get fresh with her.

The clock on the back wall read 10:05 and Professor Jones called the class to order. Emma quietly slid her book back into her bag, mildly curious as to how he taught. He stood with his back to her, which did  _ nothing _ for her vow to ignore him. He was dressed in a button down blue shirt and trim waistcoat, jeans clinging to his hips. Jeans he filled out very nicely.

Emma shook her head and scanned the crowd instead. Elsa hadn’t exaggerated; the ratio of females to males was easily three to one. Every girl stared at him, clearly enamored. Okay, the guy was attractive, but really? Emma would never say this to her friend, but art didn’t seem like a very serious option as a career.

“ Good morning, everyone,” Professor Jones said. “As you can see, we have a visitor today. And will, hopefully, for the rest of the semester.” Emma didn’t miss the way his voice lingered on the word  _ hopefully _ . Was he still implying she couldn’t handle this job? Ugh. Jones stepped aside so the class could get a good look at her. “This is Emma Swan. She has graciously agreed to be our model for this class, so treat her with the same respect you would any subject. Any  _ untoward _ behavior, Mr. Collins, will be swiftly dealt with.” Everyone’s eyes turned to the boy in question, who flushed and busied himself with re-positioning his easel.

“ Now this class is designed to teach you to properly capture the human form. Let me be clear...there  _ is _ no right way. Nor is there a wrong way. You, the artist, must draw or paint what you see.” Jones started to pace in front of them, his voice warming, filled with passion. Emma couldn’t take her eyes off him. “I will be here to guide you, to show you techniques, to find your unique artistic voice. Even if you think you don’t have one,” he added with a grin. Emma could have sworn he was looking at  _ her _ but quickly dismissed it. “Do not be afraid to fail, to make a mistake. Your art comes from within yourself; therefore it can not be  _ wrong _ . Art isn't about lines or shapes or even perfection. Art is about  _ life _ . ”

He paused, his passionate ramblings at an end. He seemed to come back to himself, standing up straighter. “Today I would like you to begin a portrait sketch of Miss Swan.”

“Under these lights?” a girl asked.

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, they’re not very flattering.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed, tempted to retort. But Jones beat her to it. “This is a basic exercise, Miss Welch. We will work with light and shadow in due course. That said, I believe Miss Swan does not require any artificial enhancement.”

Emma felt the flush creep up her neck. Had he just implied what she  _ thought _ he was implying? She didn’t have a chance to ask, as she now had to sit still. She tried to relax, but it was more difficult than she expected with fifty pairs of eyes staring at her critically. She fidgeted, eyes darting around, licking her lips. There were a couple of scowls and she stopped, focusing on the back wall.

This was way more difficult than it looked.

It didn’t help that Professor Jones stalked around the room, observing. At first, his attention stayed on the students, but Emma felt his eyes on her. He would glance at the drawing under scrutiny then at her, then back. Sometimes his face grew stormy, his blue eyes darkening. She couldn’t imagine why. Then he’d look back at her and their eyes would meet.

Emma broke contact first, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. There was something in his gaze that unsettled her, but not in a bad way. She didn’t feel threatened by him. Just confused. What did he see when he looked at her?

* * *

She was striking. That was the thought that ran over and over in his head as he went around the room. No matter where Killian stood, his eyes always came back to her. Sure, he was comparing her to the sketches but he’d never paid this much attention to a model before. There was just something about her that drew him in.

Killian could tell she was uncomfortable; the minute twitch in her jaw, the faintly pink tinge to her cheeks. She wasn’t accustomed to being stared at, which struck him as absurd. Emma Swan was a beautiful young woman and would mostly likely become even more beautiful as she aged. She still carried just a hint of roundness to her face, giving her an almost innocent quality. It was such a contrast to her prickly personality, at least what he had observed of it.

There was a painful history she tried to hide, he was sure of it. It lingered in those bright green eyes, making her sarcastic and wary.

He had to stop looking at her. To his relief, someone asked him a question and he busied himself with answering it. He absolutely would not think about placing Emma in a more private setting so he could sketch her himself. She was still a student, even if strictly speaking, she wasn’t  _ his  _ student .

The class ended fifteen minutes later. While his students put their work away, Killian busied himself with his briefcase. He’d stop by the cafeteria and grab lunch on the way to his office. He suddenly had an urge to put his jumbled emotions on canvas.

“Professor Jones?”

He looked up to see Emma looking at him expectantly. “Well done, Miss Swan,” he said, smoothly. Whatever his own emotions, she had done a respectable job. “I’m impressed.”

She smiled; it lit up her face and he groaned inwardly. “See you this afternoon?”

It took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about. His advanced class met in the afternoons. “Aye, I’d say you’ve earned the job.”

“Fantastic.”

She started to leave, but Killian just had to get in the last word. “I’m sure we’ll have a very interesting time together, Miss Swan.”

She cocked her head, her face unreadable. He wanted to know what she was thinking. At length, she nodded and left.

That night, he couldn't sleep. His dreams were haunted by a pair of defiant green eyes. Over the years, he'd discovered that painting or sketching his dreams would help him sleep. Restless, he headed down to his studio in the middle of the night, working, working, working. It took him most of the night, but he finally thought he captured the hidden depths that haunted him.

At dawn, he collapsed his bed, pleased. He had no idea just what he had begun.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“What are you doing?”

Emma looked up from her book. “Laundry.” Obviously.

“Emma, it's after midnight. It's _Sunday_. Why are you up in the middle of the night doing laundry?”

Emma shifted in her seat. The hard plastic of the chair was not doing her any favors. The fact that their apartment building had its own laundry room was convenient, but couldn't they afford nicer chairs? What did their rent go toward anyway? She ran her hand though her messy blonde hair. “You know how busy this place can get. Seemed like the best time.”

Elsa looked skeptical. “What are you reading?”

Emma shrugged. “School stuff. Dry, boring. The usual.” She prayed Elsa couldn't see the cover.

No such luck. “Art history? Since when...” The other blonde's face lit up. “Oh! This is about Jones' class! How did your first day go?”

Emma leaned back in the chair. “Fine. Like you said, all I have to do is sit there while people stare at me.”

Elsa sat down next to her friend. “The first day or so is usually the easiest, with the professor gauging everyone's skill set.” She looked thoughtful. “Did Professor Jones go over everything with you?”

“More or less. They start gesture drawings this week.”

Elsa's blue eyes widened. “Hence the laundry.”

“I realized I didn't have anything clean to wear.”

“Not that you'll be wearing _much_ ,” Elsa said.

Emma tried not to think about that. She was grateful she didn't have to do the nude thing right away, but sitting there in her underwear didn't feel like much of an improvement. Either way, those stormy blue eyes would be on her.

“How do you feel about it?” Elsa was saying. “The...you know.”

“Being naked in front of bunch of strangers? Can't you see me jumping for joy?” Emma snarked.

“Emma, I only meant...”

Emma sighed. “No, I know. Kinda funny that you'd ask  _now_ , after I already have the job.”

Elsa frowned. “Well, you're... _you_ ,” she said carefully. “Not much scares you and you've always been more...forward than me. Reminds me a bit of Anna, to be honest. I watch the two of you barrel through life, not caring about what people think.”

“Yeah, being forward has done wonders.”

“Neal was an ass. I thought you were over him?”

Neal was a guy she dated her freshman year. Turned out to be a Class A douchebag. Being bounced around so much as a kid (she didn't settle anywhere until her adoptive mom Ingrid found her when Emma was fourteen), she'd learned not to form close attachments. She'd dated a couple of times in high school, but she'd never had the swooning angsty teenage romance.

Until Neal.

He actually seemed interested in her brain and didn't merely want to get in her pants. He was a bit of a bad boy, which should have been a tipoff. But Emma had let the headiness of being on her own screw with her good sense. Before the summer holidays, Emma had lost her virginity  _and_ nearly gotten expelled over a cheating scandal. Neal had stolen the answers to several professors' exams and stashed them in Emma's dorm. Only a visit from a very disappointed Ingrid had saved her.

Emma swore to make it up to her adoptive mother.

She spent the next couple of years working hard, getting excellent grades. She only really went out when Elsa dragged her somewhere, insisting she needed to relax. A few of one night stands (sex with Neal hadn't been that good, but she wasn't a  _nun_ ), nothing major. Emma focused on her studies and was content with that.

Over two years later, Emma wondered if she'd missed some of the fun of college. Having Professor Jones challenge her the way he did had gotten her attention, galvanized her in a way nothing had since those heady freshman days. Best if she didn't examine that too closely. Just go in, do the job. She could do that.

“I am. But I'm busy, you know that.”

Elsa sighed, defeated. She knew better than to push her friend in a way she didn't want to be pushed. “At least you'll have some eye candy while you work. That's better than the diner!” They laughed. Emma listened to Elsa get her caught up on the latest gossip while she swapped loads of laundry. She probably was insane for doing it at this hour, but she'd been looking through the book Professor Jones had lent her to give her an idea of what she'd be doing. As she took in the classic works, she realized in horror that all her appropriate clothing was dirty and she just  _had_ to get it clean.

It took until two in the morning, but she got it finished. Elsa, bless her, helped Emma carry the basket up to their place, stifling a yawn as they went. “Thanks for staying, Elsa. You really should get to bed though.”

“What about you?”

“Bed. I've got to be at the diner at noon.”

“See you tomorrow then.”

The diner was slow for a Sunday, which Emma normally would have considered a blessing. Instead, she spent more time with the art history book, getting sucked into the pages. Glossy color reproductions of classic paintings absorbed her attention. Once Granny had to snap her fingers in Emma's face to her her attention. Emma flushed and tucked the book away, deciding to help scrub down the kitchen in penance. Her back ached when she got home. Elsa was out for which Emma was grateful. Their place only had one bathroom and she needed a nice long soak in the tub.

Her exhaustion had another perk. She was too tired to be nervous about what the next day would bring.

Professor Jones' classes met three times a week, the intro course in the mornings and the advanced late in the afternoon. Emma scheduled most of her classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with only one on Mondays. If she got to campus early she could work in the library until she needed to show up. It really was convenient. If she could bank the money she earned, she should have more than enough for her internship.

Early September in Pennsylvania was still warm and occasionally muggy and Emma was dressed for it. She wore a thin button down shirt and shorts, strappy sandals covering her feet. Elsa had warned her about wearing her hair up, so Emma had her long blonde locks coiled up on her head already. Emma certainly wasn't going to complain about keeping the hair off her neck in this heat.

The art building, by contrast, was cool; air conditioning running full blast. The building itself was fairly old; Elsa complained that the pipes sometimes rattled. It also meant the heating and cooling system was wonky, with thermostats controlling more than one room. Professor Jones' classroom was leaned toward the cool side; it hadn't bothered her so far.

Professor Jones was already there when she arrived; his hands were dusted with charcoal again. “Ah, Miss Swan. Punctual again.”

Emma snorted. “Has that been an issue for you in the past?”

He smiled at her; he really did have a nice smile. _Stop it, Emma._ “I arrive precisely when I mean to.”

Emma suppressed a shiver. Did he just flirt with her? No, he couldn't have. Just because he cocked a brow at her and lowered that voice of his...it didn't mean anything. It _had_ been a while since Emma so much as casually flirted with a guy; perhaps she'd take Elsa up on her offer to go out.

She put it out of her head. Job. Right. “So what do you need me to do?”

Professor Jones stood. “As we discussed on Friday, these next few classes will be dedicated to gesture drawings. Quick short sketches of a variety of poses, anywhere from thirty seconds to roughly two minutes in length.” Emma nodded. That much she knew. “Did you look at the book?”

She started, not expecting his question. “Yeah. It was...interesting.”

His blue eyes softened, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I'm very glad to hear that, Miss Swan. Everyone should make room for a little art in their lives.”

“Elsa shows me some of her work,” Emma said, not really understanding why she was telling him this. “She gave me one of her pieces for my birthday.”

“I may have to wander down to the sculpture department and take a look for myself,” Jones replied. Emma couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested or not. Then she asked herself why she cared. “I recall her being very talented.”

“She is,” Emma affirmed. She swung her bag around to dig for the loaned book. “Here's your book back.”

She held it out, but Jones shook his head. “You keep it. I've got dozens of such texts in my office. And you might find further illumination from it.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Emma replied, a bit nonplussed.

Students were filing in; a couple of the girls were throwing Emma vaguely dirty looks. Why, she didn't know. Or care. “There's a screen for you to change behind,” Jones was saying. “You may relax in the robe until we begin.”

“Got it.” Emma nodded at him, then moved up to the platform. She ditched her bag in the corner, trying to ignore the way her heart was starting to race. She could do this. It was simple. No big deal. Emma stripped off her clothes, until she was in nothing but her tightest boy shorts and sports bra. Professor Jones explained that it would be necessary for the students to see as much of her as possible, since they were supposed to be taking in the human form. Graciously, he was allowing her to ease into it; it would be a few weeks until she was completely nude.

If she hated it, she'd just quit.

But as she shrugged on the robe (it was blue with little anchors on it, smelling vaguely woodsy), Emma knew she wouldn't quit. She was tough. She could handle it. Emma Swan never backed down from a challenge.

When she stepped out from behind the screen, Professor Jones was already addressing the class. “Once again, I will remind you that we are all _adults_ in this class. Respect and detachment, everyone. If you falter, you _will_ be asked to leave. Is that understood?” His voice had a note of sternness Emma had never heard before and god help her, it did something to her. There was a pull in her gut that she tamped down furiously, hoping no one noticed.

No one did.

All the students nodded. They were mostly hidden behind large sheets, eighteen by twenty-four, which helped Emma's nerves. She slid her shaking hands into the pockets of the robe, waiting. The fabric was soft on her skin; it was much nicer than anything she owned. As Professor Jones gave instructions, she relaxed a bit, the scent surrounding her comforting.

“Shall we begin?” Professor Jones looked up at her; she nodded. Emma took a deep breath and slid the robe off, tossing it aside. She didn't miss the way his Adam's apple bobbed slightly, but chose to ignore it. There was a stool covered in a sheet and she assumed the first pose.

* * *

Killian marked the time on the clock, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Emma. He hadn't been as prepared as he thought when she took off the robe. _His_ robe as it happened. The department had some, but they were so...clinical. He couldn't see her in something so cold and stark, not when she was so warm and alive. He was skirting a line, he knew, but it was an older robe, one he hadn't used in several years. No one had to know.

He was comforted in his choice since she was left in dark blue boy shorts and a yellow sports bra, trimmed in red. Bold colors for a forthright woman.

After about a minute, he caught her attention and nodded, indicating it was time for the next pose. She moved, face mostly blank. Her cheeks were a shade darker than usual, but she gave no other sign of nerves. She was a very brave lass.

As the class progressed, Killian was further impressed by her; she _had_ examined the book he'd lent her, using some of the poses. She hadn't struck him as someone who did a job halfway, but he was still surprised. He tried to keep his eyes on the students as much as possible, but he couldn't help watching as Emma moved. She possessed a grace he hadn't anticipated, the lines of her body perfect and sublime.

Killian tried not to be too dismayed by some of the sketches; they were only rough outlines. But not one managed to capture the what he saw.

He had them pack up with a few minutes to spare; Emma had acquainted him with her schedule, she had a class to get to right after this. They exchanged only the briefest of farewells, as they would see each other later in the day. For the first time in a long time, Killian spent his early afternoon under one of the large oak trees on the campus mall, sketching. His stomach growled with hunger but he ignored it, charcoal moving furiously over the pages.

Over the next few lessons, they settled into a groove. Emma was a quick study, learning quickly what was expected of her. She beat him to class on Wednesday morning, which irked him a little. He merely resolved to be there even earlier on Friday. Sharing some banter with her first thing in the morning was rapidly becoming his favorite pastime. She was snarky and quick, almost always having a retort. He did manage to flummox her once or twice to his immense pride.

Every day he changed the prop, carefully draping a clean white sheet over it. Emma gained confidence pose by pose, although he did note that she often closed her eyes. Late Friday afternoon, he approached her as they paused to let her stretch.

“Miss Swan?”

She looked up, her delicate fingers caressing the edge of the robe. “Um, not to be weird, but maybe you could start calling me Emma? Hearing 'Miss Swan' when I'm in my underwear is kinda freaking me out.”

Killian was surprised again, but nodded. “Very well. Emma. Or perhaps just Swan?”

“No swans here, just me.”

“You underestimate yourself, Emma.”

“Did you want something?”

“Oh! Yes. This may seem like an odd question, but why do you close your eyes?”

He couldn't be certain, but he swore she glanced away for the briefest of seconds. “Helps me concentrate. I can stop.”

“No, no, if it helps you focus, then please continue. You're doing excellent work.” Perhaps not being able to see into those emerald depths would help his own concentration.

His advanced students' work was much better than the others, but Killian still felt there was something missing. Those students required less supervision than the beginner class, so he mostly sat in the back as they worked, his own sketchpad in his lap. He bought a fresh one every semester; this was already half full. He tried not to read too much into that as he quietly sketched the sloping curve of Emma's spine. She lay serenely across the ottoman, arms folded under her head. They were focusing on the torso first, as Emma slowly contorted herself every ten minutes or so. Killian infinitely preferred this advanced setting as he got more time to simply look at her.

He felt a pang as she left, knowing he wouldn't see her again until Monday. But it would be good to clear his head, perhaps try his hand at another subject. It wasn't his forte, but the leaves were beginning to change in this part of the country, perhaps a landscape?

Killian headed home, intending to check the weather and put together something to eat. He was starving. He flipped on the local news for the weather, muting the sound when his phone rang. Killian frowned at the caller ID; it was very late in England.

“Liam?”

“Hello, brother.”

Killian looked at his watch again. “Why are you still up? It's late there, certainly.”

“Can't I miss my little brother?”

Killian growled. “Liam, we've talked about this.”

Liam laughed. “I know. Old habits die hard and all that. I apologize.”

“That still doesn't explain why you're calling in the middle of the night.”

“It's only early evening where you are.”

“You are stalling.”

“Okay, fine. I was wondering what your plans were for the holidays.”

“It's only September,” Killian replied, confused.

“Exactly, I want to corner you now before you have a chance to make other plans.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Killian, you always do that. You haven't been home in over two years.” Liam came to visit him once since he moved to the States, but Killian hadn't gone back. England just didn't feel like home anymore. He couldn't tell his beloved brother that though.

“I've told you, I'm busy.”

“You're an art teacher.”

Killian didn't miss the slightly condescending tone. Liam had never really understood Killian's love of art. “At a prestigious university. It's important to me, Liam,” he said with conviction.

Killian heard his brother shift in his chair or bed or wherever he was. “Who is she?” Liam asked.

“Who is who?”

“I know you, Killian. You only get stubborn like this when there's a woman involved.”

“I don't know what you mean.” Liam didn't know the full truth about Milah; he didn't even know her name. Killian hadn't been able to keep his secret completely though. Liam knew Killian's sudden flight to America had been over a woman, but he hadn't pried anymore information out of him. If Killian had his way, he wouldn't.

“Fine,” Liam said at last. “Play your game. But you're going to be here for Christmas if I have to drag you back myself.”

Killian laughed. “I'd like to see you try.”

* * *

Emma headed straight for the diner after Professor Jones' final class. She made it through the week. She hadn't fallen or otherwise embarrassed herself, so she counted that as a win. A few hours at the diner and she'd be free until Sunday night. Thank god, because she had some work she wanted to catch up on. She desperately needed forget a pair of blue eyes.

“Emma!” Elsa's excited squeal echoed in the old style diner.

“What's up?” Emma adjusted her skirt— _again—_ wishing Granny would let them wear shorts or slacks instead. She was beginning to feel more comfortable sitting mostly naked in front of strangers than she did in the very short skirt.

Elsa sat at the bar. “I got two tickets to the football game tomorrow!”

Emma frowned. “You know I don't have time. Juggling an extra job now, remember?”

“Just this once?” Elsa pleaded. “Please? I promise I'll make it up to you!”

Emma sighed. It was early enough in the semester that _one_ afternoon of tailgaiting and football wouldn't ruin her GPA. All she'd planned to do was practice taking the LSATs. She was caught up on all her other work, thanks mostly to the insane time she was getting to the library. She spent a good two hours there before meeting Professor Jones for class. They seemed to be developing a contest as to who could get to the classroom first, which Emma found oddly flattering. She didn't read too much into it though. Maybe he had OCD or something.

“Fine. One game.”

“You're the best!” Elsa cried, coming around the counter to hug her.

Emma laughed. “Who's the guy?”

“Hmm?”

“Come on, Elsa. Spill.”

“There is no guy. I like football!”

“I know, but...” Emma's line if inquiry got cut off when some customers came in. She busied herself with the small group—all college kids like her—only pausing long enough to shoot Elsa a look as she left.

The game was a complete wash out. It poured down rain; even Emma in her poncho got wet. The storm broke the heat and humidity; she was shivering by the third quarter. By the beginning of the fourth, Emma couldn't take it anymore. She whispered to Elsa and their friends David and Mary Margaret that she was going home. Elsa frowned but nodded.

Emma left the stadium and began the long walk to the bus stop. Parking on campus on game days was a nightmare; David had picked them up in his pick up. But there was a bus stop right by their apartment, Emma wouldn't have any trouble catching it.

“Emma?”

She looked up from her wet walk—her shoes were squelching—and stopped dead. “Professor Jones?”

He pulled his huge umbrella back so she could see his eyes; he looked as startled as she felt. They'd never met outside a school setting before. “Why are you out here in the damp and cold?” he blurted.

Emma thrust her thumb over her shoulder. “Football game.”

Professor Jones nodded. “Ah.” He scratched behind his ear nervously. “Did we win?”

Emma couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled in her throat. “Game's still going on. I got tired of doing my best impression of a drowned rat.”

“I see.”

“Why are _you_ walking round in the rain? Although...I guess you'd be used to it, right?”

He looked adorably confused for a moment. “Ah, yes.” He brandished the umbrella. “It doesn't rain in England nearly as much as you Yanks seem to believe.”

“Yanks?”

“Does that bother you?”

“No! It's just...different.” She was not going to describe the shiver that went down her spine as he spoke; she was pretty sure it wasn't from the chill.

Professor Jones frowned. “Look at us, blathering about in the rain. You must be freezing.” He paused, considering something. “I was...just on my way to the gallery to wile away a few hours. Perhaps you'd like to join me? Dry out a bit?”

Emma felt rooted to the spot. He wasn't asking her on a date, right? No, no, of course not. He was being polite. She _was_ damp; she couldn't even imagine what she must look like. A drowned rat probably wasn't that far off. The gallery was only a block or so away; she could stay until she dried out. She took a deep breath and nodded. “As long as it's warm and dry, I'm in.”

He smiled that brilliant smile at her. She'd only seen it once or twice and it didn't fail to affect her. He had very white even teeth and very cute dimples peaking out of his scruff. He offered her a place under his enormous umbrella and they set off down the block.

“Leave your shoes and socks here,” Professor Jones said when they entered the quiet gallery. Everyone else was still at the game, not that the gallery got many visitors.

“Isn't that against the rules?”

He winked at her. “I won't tell if you won't.”

Emma toed off her shoes and socks, laying them out to dry. After she did so, she felt something fall over her shoulders. He'd given her his jacket. “It'll get wet,” she protested. Her shirt was still mostly dry thanks to the poncho, but the tail was soaked through.

“I can dry it later. Parts of the gallery are temperature controlled to preserve the art.”

“Oh. Right.” Emma passed by the gallery almost every day but in almost four years, she'd never been inside it. She followed him inside the first room, her bare feet padding over the carpeted floor. She mostly listened as he spoke, his voice warm and rich, his enthusiasm infectious. It was a bit like the book he'd given her, but _real_ , as she could see and in some cases, touch.

“Be careful, Emma,” Professor Jones admonished. “The oils in your hands can damage the clay. It's very old.”

Emma snatched back her hand. “Sorry, Professor.”

“I think it may be time you call me Killian? Outside of class at any rate.”

Emma looked at him, slowly nodding. “Okay.”

“I took a look at your roommate's work,” he said casually as they moved to the next exhibit. “Some beautiful pieces.”

Emma's brow knitted. She really hadn't expected him to do that. “I'll let her know. I'm sure she'll appreciate that.”

“Does she mostly work in clay?”

“I think so. I'm always finding bits of it around our place.”

“Clay was always my favorite. Takes a deft touch and it's much more forgiving than stone.”

Emma looked down at his hands. The long fingers were again smudged with charcoal, almost as if he'd missed some when washing. She tried not to imagine them working wet clay on a spinning wheel, but failed utterly. Damn Elsa for making her watch _Ghost._

“Why did you chose drawing over sculpting?”

Killian paused in front of a painting; it was a local work, a pretty rendering of the surrounding country. “I'm not sure I so much chose it as it chose me. I can't remember a time I wasn't doodling. My brother thought I was daft.”

“Daft?”

“Crazy.”

“Why do you teach?”

Killian moved on to another painting, his brow crinkled in thought. It was the first time Emma noticed the scar on his right cheek, long and thin. It stretched a bit as he thought. “I was inspired by one of _my_ teachers,” he said at last. “Fostering love of art is important, particularly in these digital times. I wanted to continue that.”

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. But it was kind of a personal question. They lapsed into silence, broken whenever he imparted some insight into the art.

She was stunned when she realized they'd spent nearly three hours just roaming. Her clothes were mostly dry and his jacket warded off the chill in the temperature controlled rooms. When they returned to the entrance, Emma could sense that something had shifted. Or _wanted_ to shift. She couldn't let it; she needed to focus.

Still, she was reluctant to let the moment end. “Thanks, Killian,” she said, handing him back his jacket. “This was fun.”

“I meant to draw today,” he admitted, sliding the jacket over his broad shoulders. “But the rain ruined that. I can't really say I'm sorry about the way the afternoon turned out.”

Emma blushed faintly. “See you on Monday?”

“Bright and early,” he replied, smothering another grin. Emma needed to get home and get some fucking clarity. Now.

She let him walk her to the bus stop, but assured him she could make it from there. Her phone had five messages from Elsa wondering where in the hell she'd gone. As she watched Killian's retreating back, she dialed her friend, wondering just how she would going to explain _this_ one.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was still raining on Monday. Killian tucked his sketchpad into his bag before heading to campus. He'd tried to distract himself all day Sunday, cleaning his little house from top to bottom. He was stunned at how much rubbish he'd accumulated in the few years he'd been there. Worst of all was his studio; wadded up paper, bits of charcoal, old smelly paint thinner, torn canvas littered the space. His two large rubbish bins were overflowing by the time he was done, but he felt like he'd accomplished something.

And it kept him from giving in to his urge to sketch Emma as he'd found her the day before, wet and bewitching.

To say he was stunned to meet her, just walking along, would be an understatement. Robbed of his opportunity to try his hand at a subject _other_ than Emma Swan, he'd found her without even trying. She walked out of the wet mist like some sort of sprite, wearing that ridiculous poncho. Killian had no idea what possessed him to ask her to the gallery; he never dreamed she'd accept.

The ensuing hours were some of the most enjoyable he'd had in a long time. Sharing his passion for art with her...it reminded him  _why_ he loved it so much. And he thought—or rather  _hoped—_ he'd seen a spark in her eyes. Despite their fairly limited acquaintance, there was a serenity and ease to their conversation. The silences didn't feel awkward and when she asked him a rather pointed personal question...he very nearly answered her with the ugly unvarnished truth.

He wasn't that big a fool.

Now that time had passed, would things still be the same? Nothing happened, not really, despite the way her scent lingered in his jacket. Seeing her outside of his classroom was mucking with his perception and he was already  _far_ too aware of Emma as a woman. A very attractive woman. Not just physically. He still believed that underneath that pushy, prickly facade was a wounded soul that desperately wanted to make connections but didn't know how.

She intrigued him, enchanted him and he  _knew_ that she shouldn't. That feeling anything other than kindness for her would lead to nowhere good.

He'd simply have to settle for admiring her from afar.

Killian stopped briefly by his office before walking to his morning class. He was pleased to see that Emma hadn't arrived yet; another mark for him in the game they'd silently begun playing. He stalked up to the platform, considering the props. None of them really captured his attention; perhaps he could ask her to stand? Ultimately, he chose a compromise; the sheet draped stool off center, to give her a place to lean on for the longer poses. His students still needed a lot of work constructing the basic human shape and its myriad of contortions before moving on to something else.

“Professor Jones?”

He turned; Emma stood there, collapsing her umbrella. She was dressed for the chillier weather, a thin sweater and jeans. She had these boots that came up to her knee, practical but stylish. Killian couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips, stepping down from the platform.

“I believe I asked you to call me Killian, lass,” he said in greeting. He enjoyed the way his name sounded on her lips.

“You also said that was for outside of class.”

“Class hasn't begun yet.”

“I didn't think artists could be so literal.”

Killian stepped closer, feeling that rush he got from sparring with her. “So you've decided I'm an artist, Emma?”

Her brow creased in confusion. “Well...yeah. Don't you have to be to teach it?”

He shook his head. “I've seen many people with the technical skills but they lack soul. True art is an expression of your emotions; it comes from within yourself. Anyone can draw a stick figure, but an artist makes it  _alive.”_

Emma unconsciously licked her lips, her eyelashes fluttering. He noted the lovely shadows they left on her cheeks whenever she closed her eyes. She swallowed, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. Had he managed to fluster her?

“I, uh, walked through the teacher's gallery on my way here,” she said. She sounded bewildered by her choice, but Killian's heart lept at the image of her seeking out something he'd created.

“And?”

She considered, a little crease forming between her brows. “Very...provocative,” she said at last. “Who is she?”

Every teacher had at least one piece in the long corridor that separated the two wings of the building. Killian's piece was something he'd drawn just prior to leaving England, as he poured his heartbreak and shame into it. The subject, of course, was Milah, but it didn't show her face. Killian didn't think he could ever look on that visage again.

“Someone from long ago.”

The tension eased as the first students arrived; Emma quickly excused herself to change. Damn it, he hadn't explained his plan for today's class. A growl stuck in his throat, cursing the bad timing. But when Emma was around, thinking about actual teaching was the farthest thing from his mind.

She didn't emerge from the screen until  _just_ before 10:05, his robe wrapped tightly around her lithe form. Her hair was more hastily pinned up than it normally was and Killian had to smother a grin. Despite the late awkwardness, he  _had_ managed to fluster her; her cheeks were pink.

Killian called the class to order. “Today we will continue gesture sketches. Remember that these are  _brief_ sketches; there is no need to go into detail. Now, if Miss Swan would be so kind, I'd like you to focus on upright poses. Drawing the human form in  _action_ is a very important skill.” He turned to Emma; she nodded her understanding. He nodded back, moving toward his desk.

When he turned back she had disrobed, her foot propped up on the stool. She stared boldly back at him. The effect was rather striking.

For the first twenty minutes for so, class proceeded normally. Killian wandered the room, observing. Every couple of minutes, Emma assumed a dramatic action pose; many of these set off her lean body to perfection, giving the impression of great strength. It was such a pity they were being wasted on such an exercise.

After a brief break, Emma began a series of poses that were her walking across the small platform, which Killian thought was brilliant. Normally, he had to ask models to do that. He liked that she needed very little direction; selfishly, it gave him more opportunities to admire her.

If he could ever persuade her to pose for him in private, he would consider himself an extremely lucky man.

_Man or artist?_ he asked himself.  _Both._ If he gleaned anything from their encounter on Saturday...there was something there. A pull. They had every reason to politely say hello and continue on their way, but they didn't. They spent nearly the entire afternoon together. Killian  _was_ attracted to her, both as an artist and as a man. Denying that seemed pointless, not that he could do anything about it, even if he wanted to.

As he looked up at her, taking in the delicate way her neck arched, he realized it was going to be a  _very_ long semester.

* * *

The library traffic was still relatively light, which made Emma happy. Now that the weather was beginning to feel a bit more like fall, she didn't feel as bad spending her lunch break snagging some food at the HUB then going to the library to start work on one of her papers. Thinking about the correlation between violent crimes and gender was welcome after a morning of Killian's bottomless blue eyes on her.

She was surprised by how comfortable she'd become in her job. After almost two weeks she didn't think it was strange for a group of people to be staring at her. The students she could handle. Although she did wonder if that would change once she wasn't wearing  _anything._

It was Killian who got to her. She tried so hard to ignore him. Most of the first week, she succeeded, closing her eyes so she didn't have to watch him watching her. But since meeting him in the rain, that strategy seemed shot. She just couldn't  _only_ see him as a teacher any longer. He was a man, one who was very attractive. One who saw right through her.

It had been a mistake to go find his art. When Elsa first told her about the display back in their sophomore year, Emma hadn't thought anything about it. But after listening to him speak so passionately...her feet took her there. The woman in the drawing was beautiful, despite the fact that her face was hidden. Emma could just tell. She was nude, reclining regally in what appeared to be a bed. It was...intimate, far more than she expected and the longing Emma felt shocked her.

Then to make matters worse, she actually  _asked_ him about it! She might as well have scrawled “jealous bitch” across her forehead, which was  _insane._ Killian was an artist who  _taught_ about drawing people! She was prepared to give him a snarky retort, reassure  _herself_ that she didn't care...until he spoke.

The pain in his voice when he said that the woman was gone stole her breath. They simply remained there, eyes locked until someone else entered the room.

Then she ran for the safety of the screen.

Since, she'd tried to put the distance back in place. She faced him head on, determined to prove that she wasn't affected. It was both exhilarating and maddening. She loved it and hated it. Which was why she retreated to the library, the one place she could be completely alone in a building filled with people.

After eating her sandwich, Emma searched through the catalog for some likely books to start her research. She made notes, printed out a few articles. It was early for this kind of work, but Emma hated being one of those people who waited until the last minute, then had to plow though thirty books in less than two weeks. At least she'd never had to write her papers  _in_ the library, spending hours before the paper was due feverishly typing. Her precious laptop was a gift from Ingrid, just before she started school.

Emma took her list of call numbers and began weaving through the narrow stacks. The aisles were very close together, the shelves made of metal. Much of the main stacks rested below ground level, so the only light came from the harsh florescents above her head. The library sprawled over several levels; it was easy to get lost. In fact, there was an urban legend that someone had  _died_ in the stacks, having gotten so lost they couldn't find their way out. Emma laughed the first time she heard it, thinking it absurd.

But she had to admit there  _might_ be a kernel of truth to it. She'd gotten lost a fair few times, wandering the shelves, going up and down the extremely cramped stairs that ran in the bowels of the stacks. It was an old building, built in the early 1900s, and it simply wasn't designed to be used by this many students with their heavy backpacks and laptops.

Emma was an old hand by now but the place sometimes gave her the creeps. Not all the lights worked and sometimes late at night the plumbing rattled. Sometimes in the winter the snow piled up outside the windows and you couldn't see outside. It gave one the feeling of being inside an igloo. Today, however, it was still fall and Emma could see the changing leaves outside above her. It was one of her favorite things about this part of the state.

Emma's backpack banged against a shelf; she slipped it off her shoulder so she could examine some of the books. She still had an hour and a half before she had to get back to the art building.

She got so engrossed in her search that only her phone blaring reminded her that she needed to go. She had a stack of books all ready to be checked out, but she didn't have time. It would take her ten minutes to walk to the art building and Killian's class started in fifteen. Emma bit her lip, torn. It was unlikely anyone would come that way and reshelve the books, so she decided to leave them as they were. She could come back and get them after class.

She wove in and out of the crowd, painfully aware that she had zero chance being early. But why did she care? It was only a job. As long as she showed up and did it well, that was all that mattered. In the end, she arrived with about three minutes to spare. Killian sat at his desk, a frown marring his handsome face and Emma felt her stomach flip. Had he been worried about her?

She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say. She wasn't late or anything. She didn't have to answer to him as long as she showed up. Fortunately, she didn't have to, as Killian looked up as she was passing. “Miss Swan.”

His blue eyes held relief. “Professor Jones,” she replied, nodding as she passed. She moved back behind the screen to change as he called the class to order.

Emma disrobed quickly, her heart beating faster than usual from her brisk walk. Killian— _Professor Jones—_ was still speaking when she stepped out, wrapped in the soft robe. “You know what to do. Begin.” Emma had never heard him so curt before; it unnerved her.

She slid the robe off her shoulders and tossed it, relaxing on the chaise. She loved and hated the advanced class. She spent less time moving around, but it gave her over active imagination too much time to wander. Professor Jones (she had to think of him like that when class was in progress, for her own sanity) mostly sat in the back, letting the students work. He had what Emma assumed to be a sketchbook on his lap, but she'd never asked.

That was a line she wasn't sure she ever wanted to cross.

Her confused thoughts led to her fidgeting; Emma had to close her eyes to relax completely. Composure regained, Emma looked anywhere but at the very back of the room, changing her pose every ten to fifteen minutes until their first break.

She felt strangely sad when Killian didn't come to talk to her during break. Granted, he had only done that once in the time she'd been there, but it still felt odd. Because they hadn't spoken prior to class? Emma had to admit she enjoyed those little conversations, even when he was deliberately trying to push her buttons.

Emma sat on the chaise after break, considering her next pose. No sooner had she assumed it than there was a disgruntled noise coming from her right. “I think we'll use the stool for the rest of class, Miss Swan,” Professor Jones said, moving toward her.

Emma was a bit non plussed. He'd never interrupted her before. She stood aside—still in her underwear—as he pulled the chaise aside and got the stool. She swallowed, noticing the muscles flexing in his arms. _Not now, Emma._

But once the stool was in place, covered in a sheet, he still wasn't satisfied. He caught her eye. “May I?”

She didn't really know what he was asking, but she nodded. Professor Jones paced around her, considering. Then he did something she wasn't prepared for at all.

He touched her.

A spark flared under her skin; she couldn't breathe. She stayed completely still, allowing Killian (yes, this was Killian, there was no other way to think of him now) to pose her to his satisfaction. Slight pressure at her elbow, another on her knee. He tilted her head to the left and even positioned her fingers; goosebumps trailed in his wake. His touches were brief and fleeting, but her skin burned for long minutes after he stepped away.

She'd never felt anything like that and it scared the shit out of her.

It was all she could do to remain still, her thoughts tumbling in a thousand different directions. What the _hell?_ He'd so studiously avoided getting near her until now. What made today different? And why was her heart pounding?

Every time she tried to catch his eye, he looked away. She'd almost have thought he was _angry_ but that didn't make sense. Not that any of this did.

He didn't come near her the rest of class. After she got dressed, she hoped to speak to him—to say what, she didn't know—but he was already gone.

Seriously, what the hell?

* * *

What in the bloody hell had be been _thinking?_

Logically, Killian knew he hadn't done anything wrong. Nothing he hadn't done a thousand times with other models. He knew that he'd have to touch Emma at some point, to place the little pieces of tape to mark her pose when they reached that stage. With some of the less natural ones, he'd had to show them the ropes, so to speak, especially in the early stages.

That wasn't an issue with Emma.

No, Emma was a natural. She had a grasp of what was required and did it without prompting. She had a dignity that came through, a softness. Every move purposeful but inherently refined. She moved like a queen. Or an angel.

He'd gotten to class fifteen minutes early, expecting to see her, share their usual banter. But she wasn't there. And then still wasn't there. His mood grew distinctly sour the longer he waited. And to his surprise, he grew _worried_. Emma was never late. As the minutes ticked by, his eyes flickered more and more toward the door.

His relief when she showed up was palpable. While he should have been glad to not have to scramble to find a model for that day's class, mostly he was just pleased to see her face. They didn't have a chance to talk and that didn't sit right in his crawl. He'd grown so attached to their conversations that being deprived of her company—even for a few minutes—drastically altered his mood.

He didn't feel right in his own skin and it showed. His orders were curt. He stayed in the back of the room, sketchbook in his lap. But he couldn't work. He couldn't help wondering where she'd been and that led down a dangerous, dangerous rabbit hole. Seeing her reclined elegantly in the chaise didn't help his composure.

He asked her to move on impulse, ditching the chaise for the stool. Which would have been fine if he hadn't poured fuel on the fire by touching her.

The warmth he felt under his fingertips made his heart race. Emma sat entirely still as he arranged her. Her skin was softer than he expected, not that he'd thought about it. He couldn't.

As soon as he stepped away, Killian realized he'd made a mistake.

When class was over he hurried out, needing to clear his head. It had finally stopped raining; he marched across the still soft grass to his office. No sooner did he get there then he left again. Art was the last thing he wanted to think about. If he did that, he'd think about her.

A book, that was what he needed. Killian was actually very well read; he enjoyed getting lost in a good story. It was another form of art, creating pictures with words instead of paint or charcoal. The campus library wasn't far; he could get a new book and distract himself with it.

Killian slung his satchel over his shoulder and headed there. Liam kept pestering him to get a Kindle or an iPad but he demurred. He _liked_ the feel of a book in his hand, turning the pages. His house wasn't large enough for him to actually have many books, but he figured that was what libraries were for.

Killian had been to the library enough times that he knew his way around the narrow stacks. The fiction books were among the few that were above ground, so to speak, as the library was built into a hillside. He couldn't decide if he wanted something familiar or something new. He wasn't fond of the glut of dystopian fiction that began to flood the market after that wretched _Hunger Games_ phenomenon. The worlds they presented were so stark, so _depressing._

Depressing was the last thing he needed.

In the end he chose a new book about pirates and tucked it in his satchel. He knew a shortcut to the circulation desk, quickly descending the narrow staircase. The staircase wound in a spiral; indeed, it was hardly wide enough for one person to pass. It also meant that you couldn't tell if anyone was trying to pass you going in the opposite direction until they were on top of you.

CRASH.

Killian stumbled back, his arse hitting the stairs behind him. He heard a female cry of pain and books tumbling down the stairs. “Bloody hell,” he swore. His elbow hurt worse than his bottom, twinges of pain lancing up his arm. But neither hurt more than his pride. “I am so sorry, Miss...” But the golden hair and pained green eyes were all too familiar. “Emma?”

Her eyes widened as she realized who it was that had knocked her flat. “Killian?”

“Aye, lass.” He hurried to his feet, offering his hand automatically. She took it and he felt that warmth again, spreading outward. As soon as she was steady she let go and Killian tried not to be offended. Not after his boorish behavior during class. “I truly didn't see you. My sincerest apologies.”

Emma snorted. “Why are you in the library anyway?”

“Same reason as you, I expect.”

“Smartass.” But he thought he caught a fleeting half smile. He prayed she wasn't angry with him, not that he could blame her.

“Would you like some assistance?”

“I can handle it.” She bent down and started to gather up her books, stacking them haphazardly. Killian ignored her and helped anyway, secretly wanting to make up for more than just spilling her books. She grunted at him but didn't protest.

“That's an awful lot of books for one lady,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear.

“I'm starting research for a paper,” she said, hefting her backpack again. “It's why I was late.”

If it was possible, Killian felt even more ashamed of his earlier behavior. “Technically, you weren't late.”

“Could have fooled me.”

He looked away from her searching gaze. “I do admit to being a bit concerned. It was unlike you.”

It was her turn to soften. “I should probably get going.”

“Aye. May I help you carry those?”

She looked confused for a moment, but nodded. “Um, sure.” She handed him half of her stack; it was heavier than he expected.

“Follow me,” he said. Killian slid past her in the narrow space, his arm grazing hers. He ignored it. They emerged from the stairs and into a corridor off the main circulation desk.

“I didn't know that passage was there,” Emma said in wonder. “And I've spent a _lot_ of time in the library.”

“Perhaps it's a secret.”

“Which you just shared with me.”

He smiled. “Aye, I did.”

They got their books checked out; the sun was low in the sky, the shorter days really beginning to creep in. Emma's bag appeared to weigh a ton and she still had some books in her arms. Now that he had her attention, he wanted to make up for what happened in class, restore their dynamic.

“Might I buy you a coffee? In penance for bumping into you so rudely?” he said impulsively.

Emma looked at him, clearly startled. “Coffee?”

He started backtracking. “Of course, I understand.”

“No! No, coffee's fine. There's only like eighty five Starbucks in this town.”

Killian chuckled. “Seems to be the way these days.”

“There's one in the HUB. Come on.”

They headed out the back entrance of the library, walking side by side toward the HUB. Killian tried not to fidget; he had no idea how to properly apologize for his behavior. How to smooth things over. At the very least, they needed to have a positive working relationship.

The HUB was downright chilly when they stepped inside; the few times Killian had been inside he'd wondered why they kept it that way. Due to the high traffic? It was a place for students to congregate, a central meeting place that had a cafeteria and an auditorium. The cafeteria was downstairs, facing west; the late afternoon sun shined through the high windows.

They stepped up to the Starbucks, Emma ordering a cinnamon dolce latte. Killian got simple black coffee, paying while Emma snagged them a table. Once they were sitting across from each other awkwardness reigned. Killian didn't like it.

He said “Emma” at the same time she said “Killian” and they both laughed.

“You go first,” she said.

Killian frowned, uncertain how to proceed. “I, uh, suppose I merely wanted to apologize again.”

“For barreling through the stairwell like a bat out of hell?”

“Mostly.”

If she understood his meaning, she gave no sign. “No harm done. Thanks for the coffee though.” She smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. “I'm sorry I was late.”

“Emma...”

“ _I was late,”_ she said significantly. Perhaps she had understood his meaning after all. Thank god, because he had no idea how to explain without getting into things better left buried. He was in far too deep as it was. “Are we okay?”

Killian took a sip of his steaming coffee. “Perhaps we should define 'okay', love.”

She pursed her lips, glancing out the window. “Well...” she said slowly. “I work for you, but that doesn't mean we can't be...I don't know. Friends?”

She caught his eye and he swore he saw the same conflict he felt. But he wasn't going reject her idea of friendship. He nodded. “Aye. Friends.”

As she walked away later, Killian realized he was completely and utterly buggered.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Emma peeled off her yoga pants as steam filled the room. If she hurried, she'd have a few hours to read before heading into the diner. Working on her paper was infinitely better than thinking about what happened with Killian the day before. If she was idle too long she could still feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, which then reminded her of the earnest, _hopeful_ look he had when she suggested they could be friends.

It was too much for her to process, so she did what she always did. Buried herself in work.

She spent a long time in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on her pale skin, turning it pink in some places. It soothed her tense muscles and relaxed her. She got out, wrapping a towel around her body and heading back to her room. As she got close, she heard her phone ringing and rushed to answer it, missing the caller by seconds. It was Elsa.

Elsa had gotten involved in designing one of the parade floats for homecoming; she'd spent most of the last week in the backyard of one of the sorority houses helping the sisters make their float. Emma only saw her at night when they were going to bed; she missed her friend. And she had no one to talk to about her Killian situation. Not that there was anything to talk  _about._

Absolutely not.

Emma sat on her bed and dialed Elsa's number. “Emma?”

“Hey, Elsa. What's up?”

“Um, I know you have to work in a little bit, but do you think you could do me a massive favor?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“We're running low on a few things over here. If I give you a list, could you run to the store and get them? I'd pay you back and everything.”

“I can do that. Hold on, lemme get a pen.” Emma dug in her desk for a pad and pen, propping it up on her knee. “Okay, shoot.” As Elsa spoke, Emma realized that her idea of a few things and Elsa's were very different. Paint, brushes, plaster, colored cardboard, foam board. They needed a _lot_ of stuff. She wondered if it would all fit in her Bug.

They hung up and Emma got dressed, pulling on an old ratty pair of jeans and her least favorite hoodie. A supply run this may be, but if Emma knew her friend, she'd try to get Emma to help...if there was time. Emma threw her diner uniform in her gym bag to take along, just in case.

So much for school work.

She'd been to the art store enough times with Elsa over the years to know where it was. It was properly fall now, the air chilly. She had a jacket on over the hoodie, thankful it wasn't yet cold enough for her beanie. Grabbing a cart, Emma took off her jacket and laid it in the top. She had a feeling she would be in the store for a  _while._

Emma unfolded her list and got to work. The foam board and colored cardboard was easiest, so she got those first. Next came brushes in all sizes, thick, thin, wide, narrow. Elsa explained how big the float was, so Emma planned accordingly. Buckets of paint went into the cart as well, in all the colors Elsa requested. Emma thought the clerk would have her head when she explained what she needed. She played Angry Birds on her phone while she waited for the paint; it was her one guilty pleasure.

“Emma?”

She looked up, eyes widening. “Killian?”

He smiled shyly, scratching behind his ear. “I have to say this is the last place I ever expected to see you, lass.”

“Why? Oh. Right.” When did she get so freaking stupid? “I'm getting some things for Elsa.”

“Paint and cardboard and brushes?”

“She's helping one of the sororities with their homecoming float.”

“Ah. Yes, that could be an excellent avenue for her skills.”

“She said something the other day about chicken wire? They've been hoarding newspaper for like a month or something.”

“Is plaster on your list as well?”

Emma's brow furrowed. “How did you know?”

“I imagine they'll be covering Elsa's creation with paper mache, reinforcing it with the plaster. As well as some original creations.”

“That...would make sense.” And now she felt really dense for not picking that up herself. She blamed Killian, standing there dressed more casually than she'd ever seen him. He wore his usual jeans but instead of a dress shirt and vest, he wore a t-shirt with some print she didn't recognize and a blue flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

How was she supposed to focus when he looked like  _that?_

_Get a grip, Emma._ “Getting some things for yourself?” she asked, intent on changing the subject.

He nodded...were his cheeks pink? “Aye. I went to do some painting and realized I was running low on a few things.”

“You paint too?”

He shrugged, cheeks reddening. “A bit. And not very often. I prefer drawing. But the fall is rather spectacular here; I thought I'd give it a go.”

“I love watching the leaves change colors,” Emma admitted. “It's pretty.”

He smirked at her. “We may make an art lover out of you yet, Emma.” He glanced away. “Yes, well, I should get going. It was nice to see you.”

The clerk had finished putting the paint in her cart at some point; Emma hadn't even noticed. Killian was about twenty steps away when she called after him on impulse.

“Yes, love?”

“How much do you know about that plaster stuff? I don't want to grab the wrong one by mistake.” It was only a tiny fib. Really, she could call Elsa and ask her, but he was right here and they were friends now. And friends helped each other out. So what if being around him made her heart beat just a little bit faster, and had her wondering if she'd feel a spark if he touched her.

Not that she  _wanted_ him to touch her.

He grinned at her. “Right this way, Emma.” Killian guided her through the store, parking her cart in the aisle with the various kinds of plaster. As they walked up and down, Emma thought much better of her decision to ask him, as she hadn't a  _clue._ He used that soft hypnotic voice to explain the various types to her, what they were used for. Emma nodded and asked only a few questions, trusting his judgment when he put some in the cart for her.

Emma looked over her list again. “I think that's everything. I should get this stuff over to Elsa before I need to get to work.”

“Work? Are you sharing your skills with someone else, love?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I work at Granny's diner a few days a week. Starving college student and all that.”

“Aye, I've heard of it. She's a very...formidable woman.”

Emma chuckled. “Yeah. But she's fair though. And gives me plenty of time for my schoolwork, so it's good.” By silent agreement, they headed for the checkout, Killian helping her with her massive load. She waited for him as he paid for his own items, lingering by the door. She shrugged into her jacket, allowing Killian to hold open the door for her.

“Is this yours?” Killian asked as they approached the Bug.

“Yep.” Emma loved her little yellow Bug, even though it was sometimes a hassle to maintain. She'd paid for it herself, just before starting school.

“It's a bit...small?”

“Hey!”

“Merely an observation, lass. I'm sure it's...adequate for your needs.” And Jesus Christ, he did that voice dropping thing again, making that sound way dirtier than it should.

“It's plenty adequate, buster,” she retorted, hoping he didn't see the way her cheeks heated up. Damn him. She was _not_ some blushing virgin for crying out loud.

Her Bug was a classic with the engine in the back and the trunk in the front. Together they loaded her items into it, trying to arrange things so they wouldn't spill.

“It's not that far,” Emma said absently. “Should be okay til I get there.”

“I wish Elsa well in her enterprise,” Killian said, pushing the cart into the corral for her. “Monday?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. Monday.”

“You'll do just fine, Emma. It's not that different.”

She nodded, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in her stomach. After almost three weeks, she would finally be posing completely nude. While she trusted Killian to keep the class as normal as possible, she couldn't help being a bit nervous about it.

“Well. I should go,” she said lamely. “Thanks for your help, Killian.”

“It was my pleasure, love.” They waved goodbye and Emma climbed into her Bug. Her thought as she drove away? Elsa owed her. Big time.

Emma woke up Monday morning to a nervous stomach. After showering (again—she showered before going to bed the night before), she started to dress in her usual sports bra and boy shorts and realized with a start they were unnecessary. She could wear whatever undergarments she wished, since no one would be seeing them.

Not as comforting a thought as one would think.

But what did she have to be nervous about? What difference did showing a bit more skin make? She wasn't ashamed of her body. Like most people, she had a some things she didn't like, a few scars, but she enjoyed working out and it showed. She could handle this.

She grabbed a banana on her way out, bag over her shoulder. She went through her usual routine, driving to campus, listening to some of her favorite music. She switched to her earbuds as she walked to the library for some reading time. She got caught up on some of the work that she missed over the weekend, as helping Elsa turned out to be exactly the project she expected.

At nine thirty she left for the art building.

Killian wasn't there when she arrived.

Emma's eyes flickered to the platform where she would be in less than a half hour. She'd done this more than a dozen times now. No reason this should be different. She decided to settle in the chair behind Killian's desk and read until he showed up.

The earbuds in her ears caused her to miss him, hence she jumped about a mile when he touched her shoulder. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me!”

He looked a bit sheepish. “Sorry. I tried talking but you didn't hear me.”

Emma hastily ripped the earbuds out of her ears. “Oops.” She finally looked up at him properly. “You brought coffee?”

Killian smiled and nodded. “What was it you got that day? Some cinnamon concoction?”

_He remembered?_ Emma accepted the cup and took a sip. Sure enough, it was the same drink. “Thanks.”

Killian scratched behind his ear again. “Aye, well, it can get cold up there. I thought you'd appreciate the warmth. You know, as a friend.”

“Right! Yeah.”

“How did Elsa's creation turn out?”

Emma took another long pull from her cup. “Good, I think. She appreciated the plaster I got, so good call on that.”

His lips quirked up teasingly. “You're welcome.”

As they talked, students slowly started to drift in. The second hand on the clock in the back of the room glided closer and closer to 10:05. When it read 10:00, Emma stood up. “I should get changed.” She couldn't look him in the eye as she left, bag up on her shoulder again. She hurried behind the screen and froze. Was she really going to do this? Sit there under the light...naked...and let people draw her?

Emma rolled her eyes at herself. She was being ridiculous.

She stripped off her clothes as she always did, her fingers shaking only a tiny bit as she slid her panties down her legs and unhooked her bra. She shivered a little until she slipped the robe on, the soft fabric gliding over her skin. It was reassuring; she'd done this plenty of times.

Then she stepped out from behind the screen.

Killian's back was to her; he was facing his students. “Today we are moving beyond gesture drawings. This is where we will see what you have learned. These longer studies depend on close observation and concentration.” He turned, glancing at Emma. “As always, you are all adults. I expect you to  _act_ like it.” He nodded at Emma. “Whenever you are ready, Miss Swan.”

Emma nodded, unable to speak. She swallowed and gathered her courage, slowly untying the belt of the robe. With her head held high, she parted the cloth and shrugged it off her shoulders, tossing it to the side as she always did. A few pairs of eyes widened, but there was no other reaction she could see. Quickly, Emma lay in the sheet covered chaise, her pose classic and dignified. At least she hoped it was.

Her heart was hammering about a mile a minute, her mind carrying on an internal debate on whether or not she should even  _look_ at Killian.

That question was answered for her, as he placed himself directly in her line of vision.

They stared at each other across the space, Emma swallowing again. Killian's blue eyes—the ones that saw through her to an unnerving degree—were scorching. She could feel her body getting warmer under the scrutiny of his gaze. She couldn't look away even though she knew she should. He had her transfixed; intense gaze, muscle twitching in his jaw, nostrils flaring...oh god, his tongue wetting his lips.

Suddenly it got very hard to breathe.

* * *

He was going to hell.

Killian wasn't an especially religious person but if hell did exist, then he had a one way ticket.

He was supposed to be a professional, damn it. He was supposed to be going around observing, instructing. But he couldn't move. All he could do was stare at the glorious perfection that was Emma Swan.

He spent all weekend trying to think of something— _anything—_ else than what awaited him on Monday. Finding her at the art store had not helped. Well, it had a little. She was so cute in her hoodie and jeans, a far cry from the siren that haunted his dreams. But they were  _friends_ now and friends weren't supposed to see each other naked.

He'd been around nude models since his own school days; none of them affected him the way  _she_ did. Not even Milah. Milah never posed for him; all of his sketches were done from memory. Models came and went; it was the nature of the thing. But Emma...

If he wasn't so focused on  _not_ reacting, he would have found some amusement from the pose she'd chosen. Clearly, she'd paid more attention to the art history book than he'd given her credit for.  _Venus of Urbino._ Of course.

She was trying to torture him.

But perhaps she wasn't? It was possible that he was the only one affected. That she felt nothing.

He could have almost convinced himself of that...until their eyes locked.

She looked as conflicted as he felt, her glittering emerald eyes staring right back at him. Her breathing was shallow; Killian unconsciously gripped the edge of the chair he stood by as his eyes roamed her body. Her golden hair piled on top of her head, the curve of her cheek, the slight pout to her lips. Her arm propped up on some white pillows, displaying the fullness of her breasts. He itched to have some charcoal in his hand to trace the graceful line of her stomach, the way her hips flared slightly. Her tiny delicate hand covered her most private place (for the moment) while her shapely legs stretched out, one tucked slightly under the other.

There was a faint flush on her usually pale skin, but her face was calm. He detected slight nervous tick of her pinky where it lingered over her sex; it took all of his willpower not to smile.

Those were only his initial impressions.

After staring far longer than he should have, Killian finally moved, pretending to be observing his students. Each time he looked back at Emma he focused on a different part, like he was trying to imprint her on his retinas. He noticed her gradually calm, her innate poise shining through, although she did lick her lips once or twice. He had to look away, lest his reaction betray him.

He noticed other things about her. A round scar on her sternum, just above the swell of her breast, the skin shiny under the light. There was another on her right wrist, the skin puckered slightly. Where had those come from?

Killian looked at the clock; they were approximately thirty minutes into the lesson. Emma hadn't moved; it was time for a break. Killian took a deep breath and swallowed, digging in his bag for the masking tape. He got the class's attention as he marched up to the platform.

Emma's gaze flickered upward but she didn't move. She did incline her head slightly as he flashed the tape. He wasn't about to touch her without her permission. _Do not let your eyes wander,_ he admonished himself as he tore at the tape. He marked the place on her hip where her left elbow rested, fingers quick and sure as he pressed the tape to her skin. He did the same for the tip of her finger on her thigh...bloody hell, he could feel how warm she was. The room had to be chilly for her, but her skin was flushed...and her nipples puckered.

_Why did he look?_

Killian heard Emma swallow as he placed the last pieces of tape, marking where her right hand rested, near her breast. After that, he withdrew hastily, hopping down from the platform, snatching his sketchpad from his bag and leaving, not stopping until he got to the landing.

His heart was racing as he sat unceremoniously on the hard steps. What was he going to do? He couldn't fire her; she hadn't done anything wrong. They were supposed to be friends; he shouldn't be leering at her. But he couldn't stop the images of her laid out before him, his hands wandering those luscious curves freely. His tongue on her smooth skin. Then reproducing her on the page, preserved forever. Wait, that was something he  _could_ do.

Killian plucked a piece of charcoal from his pocket and flipped open the sketchbook. It was his second of the semester, the first time that had ever happened. His fingers moved rapidly, with sure strokes as he sketched her from memory.

It helped. A little. It was imperfect; what he really wanted was her posing solely for  _him_ . As he couldn't have that, this would have to do.

He returned to class ten minutes after he left, calling them to order and taking his place in the back. He had to stay as far away from her as possible if he had any hope of functioning like a rational human being. When class was over, Emma waved her farewell, offering him a tentative smile.

What the hell did that mean?

After his second class, Killian went straight home. He promptly changed his clothes and went out for a run, trying to get his head back on straight. The crisp fall air made his lungs burn a bit as he ran, but it was good. It reminded him of silly boyhood games with Liam, Killian trying to outrun his older and taller brother.

Loneliness hit him like a freight train. He hadn't made many friends, was content to keep to himself. Milah's betrayal made him wary of trusting people, especially other artists. He was on good if distant terms with his colleagues; he didn't have anyone to confide in about his feelings for Emma. Feelings he shouldn't even have in the first place.

But he didn't want to confide in anyone. Whatever was going on with her...it felt private. Like they were the only people who understood each other. Killian was almost certain now that she was attracted to him as well; all he could do now was pray they had enough self control to get through the rest of their time together.

He didn't want to think about what would happen when she was gone for good, as she must be when the semester ended.

Killian was awake until well after midnight, spending most of his time down in his studio, just drawing. If there was one positive from his confused and muddled feelings, it was this. He  _enjoyed_ creating again. And no matter what, he'd be grateful for that.

Finally, unable to keep his eyes open, he wandered to his room, stripping to his boxers before climbing into bed...

He was too hot. His skin tingled, little licks of flame trailing from her touch. Killian kept his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to ruin the moment. The moment where Emma was touching him at last.

Her hands toyed with the hair on his chest, tracing the contours of his pecs, nails scratching over his nipples. He groaned, the sensation far more pleasurable than he expected. He licked his lips, a soft sigh escaping. Emma chuckled, her nimble fingers sliding over his ribs, down, down until reaching the V of his hips.

“Hmmm,” she hummed. Then he felt her warm tongue on his skin and he yelped, a curse tumbling from his lips. He couldn't believe this was real, that she was actually with him...he reached blindly, hands finding her hair, finally feeling the long silken tresses between his fingers. He opened his eyes.

“ _Emma.”_

She smirked up at him, lowering her head. Killian's moan of pleasure would have been embarrassing if he'd given a damn. But he couldn't, not when he finally knew what this felt like. Emma licking at him, suckling along his cock, those pretty pouting lips wrapping around him as she took him into her mouth. Her head bobbing, green gaze locked with his as he climbed higher and higher...just a little more...

Killian jerked awake with a gasp, his body betraying him. He was still aroused, cock peaking out from the waistband of his boxers. “Bloody fuck,” he swore, rolling onto his back. He sagged into the mattress, simultaneously disgusted and turned on. Now he was having dirty dreams about her. That was just fucking spectacular.

He hadn't had an erotic dream in a very long time; somehow he knew this was different. This felt all too real, even though he and Emma had only shared the most fleeting of contact. He desperately wanted to know how she would feel, how they would explore each other's bodies. He groaned as he shifted, the material of his boxers rubbing over hard aching flesh.

Of its own volition his hand shoved the offending cloth down, exposing his cock to the air. Killian hissed, palming himself. If he was going to hell anyway...he might as well enjoy it. He let his mind wander, imagining it was Emma there with him, it was her hand teasing him. Her touch was light, fingertips tracing the length of him, stroking the sensitive place just below the head. Killian moaned, hips rocking up off the bed. Desire pounded through his veins, making his body tingle.

He imagined it was Emma's hand wrapping around him, thumb skimming the leaking tip. Her free hand reaching down to fondle his balls. Killian planted his feet on the bed, rocking his hips up, still moving slowly, in no hurry just yet. It had been a long time since this was anything but mechanical, something he did to scratch an itch. He was doing that now, but this time he had an object for his desires. Someone that made him  _feel_ where he had been so very cold.

“Emma,” he murmured, hand increasing speed, just a fraction. He licked his lips, picturing her there, her golden hair tumbling down her back, a few locks hanging over her shoulder, the tips tickling his stomach as she stroked him. Would she put her mouth on him? He hissed, a perfect image of her taking him inside her warm wet mouth. She'd be warm, his Emma. So fiery and full of life. He moaned again, hips jerking, pressure building.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed, his fist moving faster, twisting in the way he liked. He was so close, he could almost taste his orgasm, blood rushing in his ears. He imagined Emma, head bobbing, tongue licking and swirling, cheeks hollowed out as she sucked him down.

“ _Fuck!”_ he roared, pure bliss consuming him as he came, the wet stickiness of his release dripping over his fingers, spurting over his stomach. He jerked until he was spent, collapsing back into the mattress, panting. His eyes fell closed as the mental flagellation began before he even caught his breath. He _couldn't_ want her. He _shouldn't_ want her. But he did.

It was worse now than ever before.

Sighing heavily, he went to the bathroom and cleaned up. Then he tried to go back to sleep. He didn't have any classes on Tuesdays, which was lucky since he didn't fall asleep properly again until dawn. He merely tossed and turned, beating his pillow into a variety of lumpy shapes.

When he woke up it was past noon, his stomach growling. After a quick shower, he scoured his kitchen for something to eat. He was still mulling his options when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Killian?”

It was Liam; Killian sighed. “Who else would it be?”

“You don't sound well, brother.”

“I'm fine. Slept late.”

“Working on some masterpiece, I expect.”

Killian forced a laugh. “Something like that.”

“Did you forget about the match?”

Killian's brow knitted together. There was a match? Huh? Then he remembered. Manchester United against some Turkish squad for the Champions League. He and Liam watched those together, even an ocean apart. Football was the thing that kept them connected, an obsession they both shared.

“No, I didn't forget,” he lied. “Was just getting some snacks together.”

“Right,” Liam said. He sounded skeptical. “Well, you best hurry, they're off in about ten.”

They hung up so Killian could get his food together. Now that he had something to do, he moved with purpose, bringing a beer and some crisps and dip into his living room. He switched on the telly and flipped to the soccer channel. He had to pay extra for it, but it was worth it. Once he was settled, he called his brother on Skype. It was much cheaper than the phone bill.

“So what do you think our chances are today?” he asked. Talking about football would keep Liam from asking too many questions about Killian's personal life. Or trying to revisit the topic of Christmas. He wasn't keen on either.

Liam was still giving a long winded run down of the Red Devils' injuries when the match started. Their attention moved to their televisions, Killian munching on his snacks. Cursing and cheering and finger pointing were common during these sessions as both brothers were passionately invested in their team.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Liam asked when the match ended. United won 3-2, but Killian should have known his stubborn older brother wouldn't be deterred.

“Everything's fine. Just busy.”

“You look tired, Killian.”

“You know you can't tell the sodding difference over the computer, you ponce.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Whatever, little brother. But you know if there was something wrong, all you have to do is call.”

Killian's attitude softened. Liam may annoy him with his overprotectiveness, but his brother did care. “I know. You're a good brother, Liam.”

“Don't you forget it.”

Killian chuckled. “I promise. I'm really fine. The semester's going really well.”

“Well, I'm happy for you then. Molly says hello, by the way.”

“Where is she?” Molly was his brother's wife; Killian liked her.

“Dinner with friends. Didn't want to be around in case we lost.”

“You should call and tell her the coast is clear. I'm sure she'll appreciate not having to coddle your sorry arse.”

Liam glared through the screen. “One of these days, Killian...”

“But not today.”

“Go draw something.”

“I love you too, Liam.” They hung up, Killian closing the laptop with a snap. He cleaned up his mess then headed down to his studio. For once, he would take his brother's advice.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Are you sure you don't want to come?”

Emma adjusted the phone between her shoulder and ear. “I'm sure, Ingrid. Say hi to Gerda and Helga for me.”

Her adoptive mother laughed. “I will. What should I tell them about why you stayed behind? A torrid love affair, perhaps?”

Emma squirmed in the driver's seat of her Bug. _That_ hit a bit too close to home. But Ingrid didn't know anything about Emma's modeling and she intended to keep it that way. Ingrid sometimes acted more like Emma's sister than her mother, but she was the closest thing to a mother Emma had. Moms and anything to do with nudity was weird. It was only for two more months; she could handle herself.

“Yeah, cuz guys are just beating down my door,” Emma said sarcastically.

“Emma, when was the last time you went out on a date? You're young, you should live a little.”

“I've been out,” Emma mumbled. She started the engine; it was cold enough to need the heater running. Granted, going out so far was confined to running into Killian Jones all over town, but she was busy, damn it.

“You can talk about boys to me, you know.”

“There is no boy,” Emma muttered irritably. There couldn't be when Killian was all she could think about. When she allowed herself to think about him, which she was trying mightily hard not to do.

“I just don't want you to live with regrets, Emma,” Ingrid said carefully. “I know what that's like. You're smart and beautiful; you work hard. I'm so proud of all you've accomplished. But there's so much more to life than _just_ work. Don't be afraid to get out there and enjoy yourself. Okay?”

Emma smiled even though Ingrid couldn't see her. She may have come into Emma's life late, but Emma loved her like a mother. She knew Ingrid had her happiness in mind. “I'll try, okay? But this internship is important too.”

“Oh, I know it is, honey. I'm certain you'll get it. But you're only young once. It's all about finding balance.”

Emma chuckled. “Okay. Listen, I'm heading to the diner. Text me when you get to Gerda's and have a safe flight.”

“I will. I love you, Emma.”

“Love you too. Bye.” It was Fall Break and Emma was spending it at school. Elsa had already left, gone home to visit her parents and younger sister, Anna. She invited Emma along, but Emma demurred, mentioning something about a couple of extra shifts at the diner. Then Ingrid asked if Emma wanted to fly to Maine to visit _her_ sisters. Emma liked her aunts, but three days wasn't enough time for a proper visit. Granny would have given her the time if she asked for it, but Emma just couldn't make herself leave town.

And she didn't want to admit that, even to herself.

The fact of the matter was if she stayed in town, she might run into Killian again.

Emma wasn't sure how she got through that first week of posing completely nude. It had been both the longest and shortest week of her life. The way Killian looked at her...it was unnerving. And exhilarating. And—though she would never admit it out loud—intensely arousing. She thought she was handling it...but then he touched her. It was very chaste, considering her nudity, but he might as well have branded her. Pressing the masking tape to her skin, those long fingers...Emma was thankful for the presence of Killian's students because they prevented her from making a complete fool of herself.

She was sure her body had betrayed her, but he was gentlemanly and polite, going so far as to fetch the robe for her after that first class. That first time, Killian had nearly bolted from the room and Emma wished she knew why.

By Tuesday, she all but convinced herself that she'd imagined the whole thing, but then it happened again on Wednesday. Her body thrummed pleasantly when he was close to her; she could drown in his deep blue gaze. It was only in the privacy of her room that she let her thoughts and feelings run wild, imagining how it would feel if his touches were bold instead of chaste, what he looked like under those clothes.

After, her body felt better but her thoughts were confused. She was a student. He was a professor. They were supposed to be friends. Whatever this was—and she wasn't even sure there _was_ something—it couldn't happen. She was pretty sure it was a rule somewhere.

_Rules were made to be broken._

Emma sighed and pulled into the small parking garage down the street from the diner. She did not have feelings for Killian Jones. Okay, yes, she was attracted to him. But she was an adult; she could control herself. She just had to get through a few more weeks and then she'd never have to see him again.

She studiously  _ignored_ the way her stomach dropped at that thought.

She was not going to be some sad girl with a crush. She could handle this. Besides, she had work to do.

Emma grabbed her bag and headed for the diner. It lay on the corner of one of the side streets; it was well lit, but still off the beaten path. It was pretty famous among the students; Granny's was open 24/7, ready to satisfy midnight muchies or late night studying. Granny herself was a legend, having run the diner for more years than most people could remember. Her granddaughter, Ruby, claimed the old woman was immortal.

Emma waved hello when she stepped inside, the bell jangling. Ruby was there, cleaning the counter top of the bar. “Hey, Emma!”

“Hey, Ruby. Slow day?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I don't know why we're even open. Everyone's gone home.”

“It'll be a cold day in hell before Granny ever closes this place. At least I can get some studying done.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Don't you ever do anything besides study?”

“Sure. Elsa sometimes manages to drag me somewhere. Or I watch Netflix.”

“What an exciting life you lead,” Ruby deadpanned. “You have to be the most boring college student I have ever met.”

“Hey, we can't all date football players.”

“Emma, you don't date at all. When was the last time you got laid?”

“Ruby!” The girl had very little filter; Emma usually found it refreshing. “Dating and sex are not the same thing.”

“I know that. You're not doing either, which is a crime.”

Emma blushed. “I, uh, appreciate the compliment. I think. I...just don't feel like dating. You know I'm working on getting that internship.”

Ruby tossed her dirty rag in the sink. “Suit yourself. But there's a party over on the Row if you change your mind.” She untied her apron. “Granny asked if you would mind doing some inventory, since it's slow.”

Emma put her bag into her cubby. “Sure, no problem.”

“Gus is in the kitchen, if you need anything.”

“Go on, get outta here.” Emma grinned at her friend. Despite the jabs at her love life, Emma liked her, always had. In the time Emma had known her she'd had a string of boyfriends; Ruby was pretty and vivacious, she and Elsa sometimes teased their friend about her harem. Emma just wasn't wired that way and after Neal...better she finish school. That attitude had gotten her through the last two years; she saw no reason to change it now.

Emma went through the diner, making sure all was quiet before she got started on the inventory. She said hello to Gus; he was playing some game on his phone. Granny was pretty lenient about that kind of thing. If their work was caught up, then she was fine with them cracking open a boor and studying. Emma reminded him about checking the freezer then got to work.

She started behind the bar, carefully counting their supplies; the floor became littered with stacks of cups and napkins and little sweetening packs as she worked. The bell jangled and Emma jumped. She got to her feet, silently cursing the short skirt again. She really would have to say something to Granny. Wiping dirt off her ass wasn't her idea of a swell time.

Fortunately, the only customers were a couple about her age; they'd been in a few times. Emma took their order and got their coffee while Gus cooked their food. They got it to go; perhaps Ruby was right. Maybe it wasn't very cost effective to stay open when the town seemed to be all but deserted.

Sighing, she went back to her counting, digging her clipboard out from under a pile of cups. Her knees started to ache from kneeling on the hard tile; the rubber mat didn't have any cushion to it all. Stubbornly, she kept going, only pausing when she got everything counted and put away under the counter. She'd been at for almost two hours; she decided to take a short break.

Emma let Gus know where she was going then ducked into Granny's office. It was the only room in the place that had a lock aside from the freezer. The safe was built into the wall; Granny had a large desk filled with thick inventory books and back orders wedged into the corner of the room.

Best of all was a plush office chair; Emma sank into it gratefully, one hand idly massaging her knees. She closed her eyes; she was entirely alone. _Only a few more months,_ she reminded herself. Then she'd be off to law school and out of here. Finishing school also meant getting away from the weird tension with Killian.

Killian.

Why'd she have to go there? Because thinking about him conjured images of him staring her, setting her skin on fire. Bastard probably didn't even know he was doing it.

Her hand rested on her thigh...not far from where he'd touched her during their last class. Unbidden, an image of his hand sliding higher danced behind her closed lids and she groaned. Now? Really? But there it was, the unmistakable flash of heat in her belly. She tried to ignore it, to will it away. With zero help from her overactive imagination.

Well...she was alone. And the door was locked. Feeling positively wicked, Emma slid down in the chair, hitching her skirt up. She propped one foot up on the desk, her legs falling open. She pressed a finger over her panties; she was wet. Emma bit her lip, trying not moan as she lightly teased herself through the fabric. She imagined Killian finding her like this, wet and aching for him. Would he kneel in front of her? Her breathing hitched as she pictured him dragging her panties aside to lick her.

“Oh,” she breathed softly. She slipped her hand into her panties, quickly finding her clit. She didn't have long; Gus would come looking for her at some point. Her fingers moved expertly over her slippery flesh; she moaned. She wondered how Killian's long artist's fingers would feel inside her, stroking her walls. Her hips rocked into her hand; she pushed two fingers inside, grinding the heel of her hand against her clit. Faster, _faster_ , biting her lip _hard..._ she fell abruptly with a small cry, panting harshly.

Emma groaned as she sat up; she'd never done anything like that before. Well, she had but not at _work_. Jesus. Once she had her breath back, she put everything back the way it was and hurried from the office to the bathroom to wash up. She stared at herself in the mirror; her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy, still a bit dilated. Quickly she scrubbed her hands then splashed cool water on her face. That helped a bit. Her heart gradually returned to normal and she deemed it safe to return to work...

...Where she found Killian sitting patiently on a stool at the bar.

She was so screwed.

* * *

Killian didn't even know what he was doing there. He drove into downtown to get some ingredients from the foreign market. It was Fall Break, nearly everyone was gone for the weekend. So he was surprised to see Emma's yellow Bug sitting in a parking spot. He knew it was hers because of the small scratch on the hood. He knew he should leave her alone, that he should avoid her, but he walked past Granny's anyway. And stepped inside. And waited for her, even after the boy poured him a coffee.

“We keep running into each other like this, I'm going to think you're stalking me,” Emma said lightly, stepping behind the counter. Her cheeks were pink, whether from embarrassment or surprise, he didn't know.

Killian forced a laugh. “Would you believe me if I said my being downtown had nothing to do with you?”

She cocked her head, considering him. “Actually, yeah. I would.”

“Why's that?”

She shrugged. “I know when people are lying to me,” she said simply. “It's a thing.”

“A thing?”

“I've always been able to do it. It unnerves most people.” She tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Killian took a sip of his coffee, thankful she believed him. He didn't know why they kept running into each other. This was the first time he'd _actively_ sought her out. He tried to rationalize it as simple friendly curiosity, but he knew it was more. He was drawn to her. “Seems like a skill that would serve you well in your chosen profession, love.”

“You would think. More coffee?”

“Free refills?”

Emma grinned. “Today? Sure, why not.” She grabbed the pot and topped off his mug. Then she poured one for herself.

“So why are you stuck here instead of at home with all the rest?”

She added some cream and sugar to her mug. “I have some work I wanted to catch up on. My mom is visiting her sisters in Maine.”

“Always working,” he said, chuckling. She usually had a book in her hand when they met in the mornings. He admired her dedication.

“No rest for the wicked.” As soon as the words were out, she blushed and looked away. What on earth was that about?

They were quiet for a while; no one quite sure what to say. They were keenly aware of each other; Killian caught a flash of the short skirt she was wearing. He groaned inwardly; no doubt that would play a role in his dreams soon enough. Still, he couldn't make himself leave. They were just talking. As friends. There was nothing untoward about that.

He asked her about Elsa and that gave them some common ground for a little while. “Apparently, there's this art department soiree every semester, Elsa keeps trying to get me to go...to 'broaden my horizons' or something. Mostly, I think she just wants me to play wingman for her.” Then she looked up at Killian. “But you knew about the party because you work there. God, I'm an idiot.”

“I enjoy your stories, Emma.”

“Next time just stop me.”

Her hand rested in the counter, inches from his. It would be nothing to reach out and touch, but he refrained. “I've only been to those once or twice, much to my department head's consternation.”

“You're a rebel.”

He laughed. “Perhaps. I may put in the effort this year though.”

Her brows shot up. “Really?”

He shrugged, trying to appear casual. “I figure once every few years...a bit of appeasement, you know.”

“Because that always works.”

“Mr. Chamberlain seemed to think so.”

“Didn't work out so well for him.”

“Perhaps I'll have better luck.”

She smiled. He couldn't quite decipher what she was thinking. “Perhaps.”

Now Killian might have been a bit out of practice, but he was fairly certain Emma had just flirted with him. And pretty blatantly too. What was he supposed to do now?

* * *

This was perhaps the worst idea she had ever had.

What exactly was she hoping to accomplish? Killian's appearance at the diner that day...Emma had never been more mortified in her life. She had _just_ been in Granny's office, thinking of him, and touching herself. Then there he was sipping coffee, looking positively scrumptious in a red and black plaid shirt and jeans. Somehow she managed to pull herself together as they fell into their usual banter. She was oddly flattered that he wandered in, that the meeting hadn't been an accident.

She didn't know what possessed her to mention the dumb party; it just popped out as they were talking about Elsa and art. The conversation took an unexpected—but not unpleasant—flirtatious turn and now here she was getting ready to attend the party alongside her friend. Elsa was ecstatic that Emma was coming; they hadn't been out together since the wet football game, since they were both so busy.

Emma rechecked herself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. It was a bit more daring than she usually went for, tight, electric blue, coming down to mid thigh. She wore her hair down, falling in curls around her shoulders, which made her feel a bit less exposed. _You can sit naked in front of strangers but you're nervous about a dress. Get a grip, Swan._ But that, for better or worse, was a job. This was going to a party filled with strangers in the hopes of...what? Talking to her crush? Not that she had one. She did not.

“Ready to go?” Elsa asked, poking her head in the bathroom. “Oh, you look amazing, Emma!”

Emma spun on her heel. “You think?”

Elsa nodded. “Definitely. I'm just jealous I can't pull off that color.” Elsa's dress was black, which contrasted nicely with her white blonde hair.

“Are you sure it's okay for me to go?”

Elsa nodded. “Of course! It's open to the public, you know. And besides, you work for the art department now. Sort of.”

Emma squared her shoulders. “Okay, let's go.” She grabbed her clutch on their way out the door and drove them in her Bug.

The point of the party was to exhibit the work done by the students over the past year. Competition to get their work displayed was surprisingly intense; Elsa had _two_ pieces this year. It was an effort to get the students' names and work out there, plus it was just fun to mingle with fellow artists. Or that was what Elsa told her every time she'd tried to convince Emma to come. But there was free food and refreshments, so the night wouldn't be a total loss.

Emma hadn't been to a party in ages. Hadn't Ingrid just encouraged her to live a little?

She parked in the nearest lot and they walked to the Student Union building, where the entire first floor had been converted into a gallery. Emma followed Elsa, trying to _not_ scan the crowd for a head of unruly black hair.

Elsa introduced Emma to a couple of her artist friends; that distracted her for a bit. They got snacks and punch and Emma began to relax. It was just a party.

Emma tried to follow the chatter, but she got a bit bored, as Elsa was arguing some point about a sculptor Emma had never heard of. She excused herself and ducked into the bathroom. When she came back, she decided to take a look at the art. That was the point of the party, after all.

She was standing in front of a tall painting, trying to decipher its hidden meeting when a hand touched her elbow. “Fancy seeing you here, lass.”

Emma let out a breath; she didn't want to admit he'd surprised her. “So you did decide on the appeasement option.”

“Aye.”

“How's that working out for you?”

“Time will tell.” He stepped up so he was next to her; he looked entirely too handsome in a well cut black suit. Emma swallowed, her throat suddenly tight.

“So I, uh, have no idea what this is,” she said, feeling like an idiot.

Killian studied the painting, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I'm not entirely sure it's meant to be a what.”

“Huh?”

“Sometimes art is more about feelings than objects,” he explained. “Here, step back a bit.” He took her elbow again—warmth shot up her arm—and stopped them several feet back from the painting. “Look at it now and tell me what you feel.”

That was clear as mud to her, but she did as he asked. She cocked her head, examining the painting again. It looked a bit like a red and gray blob, but she suspected that wasn't what he was getting at. “Confused?” she guessed. Killian nodded encouragingly. She pursed her lips. “Red...anger's gotta be in there somewhere. Angry, confused...” She spotted a golf sized yellow dot in the upper left, all alone amidst the swirling colors. “But why yellow?” Emma chewed on her lip, thinking. “Unless...yellow is light? Something made them feel angry and confused but there is a spot of light and...hope?”

Killian smiled his brightest smile. “You just analyzed your first piece of art, Emma.”

“Wow, really?”

“Just as well as any of us with our fancy degrees, love.”

Emma grinned. “Thanks.”

She was about to ask him if he wanted to meet Elsa (again) when a man she didn't know called Killian's name. “There you are, Jones! I couldn't believe it when Will said you'd come! Come, we must have a drink!”

Killian gave Emma an apologetic look as he got led away. Clearly his colleague didn't care that he'd interrupted. Interrupted what, Emma didn't want to examine too closely. She followed him with her eyes for a few minutes before finding Elsa. “Emma, there you are! I was starting to get worried.”

“I was looking at some of the art. It's really good.”

Elsa beamed. It made her happy to see her friend having a good time. She slipped her arm through Emma's. “Come on, let me take you the sculpture exhibit.”

Emma allowed Elsa to lead her away; she caught a fleeting glimpse of Killian before they moved into the next room. Now that she knew a bit more about art, she could better appreciate Elsa's work. Still, she couldn't help furtively looking around for Killian. Her efforts were not helped by Elsa's friend who tried to flirt with her.

“Elsa says you're a criminal justice major?” the boy said. His name was Peter? Or was it Paul? Or Patrick? It definitely started with a P but that was all she could remember.

“Yeah.”

“That sounds complicated.” Mr. P was Emma's height...without her heels. He seemed nice enough; brown hair and eyes, boyish face. His suit was a size too big; the jacket sleeves covered his hands.

“Depends on your focus. I'm trying to get into law school.”

“My mom wanted me to go to law school.” Emma looked back at him after glancing over the boy's shoulder, looking for Killian. She couldn't picture him in a courtroom.

“Is she okay with you being an artist?” She remembered Killian saying that his brother hadn't approved of his career path.

“Not really...” He went off on a long tangent about his family's business and his mother's expectations but Emma stopped paying attention. She found Killian at last; he was surrounded a gaggle of girls, all vying for his attention. Seriously?

“Emma?” Elsa asked worriedly. “You okay?”

She loosened her grip on the glass she was holding. “Yeah, I'm fine.” She took Mr. P's arm. “Come on, let's go look at some of the things over there.” Then, quite deliberately, she stalked right across Killian's field of vision. Mr. P read the card attached to the pedestal; Emma looked over her shoulder. Killian was staring at her, his blue eyes stormy. Emma felt a shiver race down her spine.

She didn't know what had gotten into her but this was the most fun she'd had in a very long time.

She spent about ten minutes following Mr. P along the wall, only half listening as he droned on. The next time she caught Killian's eye she made some excuse about going to the bathroom, then headed in that direction.

“Making a new friend, Emma?”

Emma inhaled sharply and stopped. They were only about ten feet from the bathroom. “Maybe.”

“What are you playing at, love?”

“Who says I'm playing at anything? I wasn't the one with a harem following me!” she hissed.

Killian moved in front of her. “A what?”

“You heard me.”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous.”

“You can talk to whomever you want. We're friends, remember?” So what if they'd been more or less flirting the last few times they'd spoken? It didn't mean anything.

“Aye, friends. In that case, I'll let you get back to the party.”

Emma looked around quickly; there was a door around the corner from the bathroom. A fake tree blocked the view but it was there. Killian had only gotten a step before she grabbed his arm and dragged him behind her. A furtive look around and she pushed open the door.

It was a broom closet.

A rack filled with cleaning supplies, a bucket and mop, a floor buffer all littered the space. It wasn't very big and once they were inside it felt even smaller.

They were alone.

Sounds of the party filtered through the crack of the door, but all Emma could hear was the pounding of her own heart. What the hell was she thinking?

“Emma?” Killian asked. The heated tone from mere seconds ago was gone; he sounded concerned but oddly hopeful.

She turned around. “Shut up. Just...shut up.” She licked her lips, her eyes traveling the length of him. Her heels put them at virtually the same height, perhaps only an inch or so difference. She'd watched him move around the props in his classroom; she was certain he was hiding some toned muscles under that suit. Now that he was this close, she itched to touch him.

Every look, every quiet conversation, every fleeting touch they shared so far came on her in a rush; the tension whipping and snapping between them like lightning. When she got to his face, he opened his mouth to speak; Emma pressed her finger to his lips.

“What did I say about shutting up?”

He _smirked_ around her finger, then to her intense shock, pressed his lips to her finger. A whisper of a kiss.

Emma's eyes fluttered closed for a briefest of seconds, then she moved before she could overthink it. She slid her hands over the lapels of his jacket and pressed her lips to his.

She only meant it to be a peck, but her body had other ideas. His lips were warm and soft, little sparks shot across her skin. Emma hummed the tiniest of moans before curling her fingers into his jacket and pulling him closer. Killian grunted in surprise, but came willingly, tentatively reaching up to stroke her hair. She felt his tongue along the seam of her lips; she didn't even hesitate, opening for him easily. His other hand rested lightly on her hip; Emma angled her head to deepen the kiss further, unable to stop. He tasted of punch and rum; she sucked greedily on his tongue. He moaned, which made her shiver. Somehow they wound up pressed against the door, Killian holding her against him, his hand pressed into her lower back.

They broke for air; Emma's pulse hammered wildly and she couldn't breathe.

That was the best kiss of her entire life and holy shit, she wanted more.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to step back.

“I, uh, think I should go,” she said softly. She didn't want to look in his eyes; if she did, she might not be able to walk away. And this time, she needed to walk away. For both their sake's.

“Emma...”

“Later,” she said. Whatever conversation he felt they needed to have, she couldn't do it now. It wasn't like they could avoid each other. She worked for him. _Oh shit._ “Wait five minutes, then you can come out.”

“As you wish.”

He stepped away from the door and Emma left. She made sure Elsa had a ride home, then headed out, needing to put as much distance between her and Killian as she could.

Killian exited the broom closet the moment the five minutes were up, but Emma was already gone.

 


	6. Chapter 6

He stood there in the middle of the party, searching for Emma. He tried to be casual, to be unobtrusive, but he quickly garnered the attention of his unwanted admirers.

His lips still tingled from that kiss.

He could only now admit to being nettled by the sight of her on the arm of some plain _boy_. He wouldn't have dared before she lured him into a secluded corner. Well, lured was the wrong word. Killian had been trying to disengage from the crowd around him for the better part of an hour, so they could continue their conversation. Or had it become a flirtation? All Killian knew was he craved her presence, the way her eyes lit up when they spoke.

So when she wandered off alone, he rather rudely left his undesired cortege and followed her. A few pointed words later, she dragged him into a broom closet of all things. Everything happened so fast...but that was merely an excuse. He  _wanted_ to be alone with her. He wanted to find out what would happen next, even if that made him a selfish bastard.

Emma had not disappointed, not that she could. The feel of her finger against his lips was a tease that in no way prepared him for what came next.

It was like drowning and coming up for air all at once. It was the fine line between living and dying. He only considered pushing her away for the most fleeting of seconds before just giving in. When she yanked him closer, he was completely lost. Her sweet pliant lips, warm tongue, curves pressed against him, his hand at the small of her back. She surrounded him and finally wheedled her way past the last of his defenses.

He was dazed when she stepped back, but he knew what happened had changed everything. Knew it and knew they needed to talk, to figure out what, if anything, they wanted.

But Emma had other ideas.

He let her go, knowing her well enough to know that pushing her would make her shut him out completely. His own emotions were far too jumbled for a real conversation anyway.

Still, he hoped she would wait for him. But she was gone.

Killian excused himself bluntly and headed for the door. He only came to the party in the hopes of seeing her. Making small talk wasn't his forte, preferring to keep to himself. He'd put in his appearance, the department head was happy, so he was free to focus on Emma.

He went home, even though it was still relatively early in the evening. Bypassing the telly, he went straight to the liquor cabinet, pulling out one of his best bottles of rum. He wasn't sure if it was to numb his swirling emotions or to celebrate, but he felt entitled to a drink or two. He grabbed a tumbler and headed for his studio. Drawing was the best medicine for what ailed him.

But why was he ailing? He didn't regret the kiss. He couldn't. He'd been dreaming about her for weeks now. Killian played the gentleman, keeping his feelings to himself. They were friends, at least he hoped they were. The kiss had certainly laid to rest any doubts that Emma harbored similar affections for him.  _She_ kissed  _him._ Quite forcefully. They had something together, something strong.

But he knew it shouldn't have happened. As long as she worked for him, they could both be in a great deal of trouble if they got caught. He felt guilty for that, for having feelings for her under these circumstances. But how could he not? Even in their short time together, he knew she was one of the most extraordinary women he'd ever met. He wanted to know everything about her, find out what made her tick.

He wanted her right here in his studio, where he could spend long hours drawing her, right down to the very last freckle.

Killian unscrewed the cap on the rum and poured a healthy bit into the tumbler. After knocking it back, he divested himself of the jacket and tie, then rolled up his sleeves. He got out his pad and easel, grabbing another drink before picking up the charcoal. He didn't normally draw while inebriated—not that he was yet, Killian could hold his rum, thank you very much—but he wanted his mind a little fuzzy. The lack of regret coupled with the guilt gnawed at him as he drew.

He didn't know what would happen now. Now that he knew what it felt like to hold her, to kiss her, he wanted more. But he couldn't change who he was, who they were to each other  _outside_ of the feelings they developed. He'd be risking his job, his career. The only consolation was that Emma wasn't  _his_ student; she was on a completely different track. He knew of a few professors—men and women—who'd carried on liaisons with students and lived to regret it.

Was Emma worth it?

It was frightening how quickly he knew the answer to that. Killian hadn't felt like this since Milah; he truly never had expected to feel this way again. But his feelings for Emma were different, stronger. He still hardly knew her, but he felt like he'd known her for years. He downed another drink, pausing to consider what he'd drawn so far. He smudged a bit around the eyes, giving them the smoky look Emma's had just before she kissed him witless.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, just drawing. When he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, Killian wandered to his bedroom, pausing only briefly to shuck his shirt and pants. He collapsed in the bed and fell into a troubled sleep.

The next day, Thursday, wasn't much better. He washed away the evidence of his late night, the water dark as it swirled down the drain of his shower. He felt even guiltier when he took himself in hand, stroking his aching cock to thoughts of Emma. Water sluiced over his skin, soaked his hair. He moaned softly, remembering Emma's mouth on his, how passionate she was. He imagined her there with him, nude and wet, begging. He'd brace her against the wet tile, feel those long legs wrapped around his hips, their mutual groans of pleasure as he slid inside her.

“Shit,” he cursed, hand pumping faster. He could see it in his mind's eye and it ruined him. The pressure gave way in a rush, the evidence washing down the drain as he panted and cursed. He had to stop fantasizing about her. At least until he knew if those fantasies had any hope of becoming reality.

Killian spent most of his day in his office, consulting with his TA, answering some student questions. He perused the student paper, reading the article on the party.  _Bloody hell, it's not a gossip column,_ he thought angrily, annoyed with himself. But he couldn't help but feel a  _little_ pleased that no one seemed to notice that he and Emma had disappeared. It gave him hope, where he knew there shouldn't be.

He did a lot of thinking, realizing that there was still over six weeks left in the semester. They would need to find a way to continue to work together, no matter what. He knew how important the money Emma was earning meant to her. It was part of her dream internship; he could never be so selfish as to take that away from her.

He would let her lead. If she wished to explore what happened in the broom closet, they would deal with it. If she didn't...well, he'd deal with that as well. He was the professor, it was his job to remain professional. It might kill him, but he'd do it. For her.

But they needed to talk.

Emma arrived a mere five minutes before class was due to start on Friday morning. She spared him only a fleeting glance as she went to change. He desperately wanted to pull her aside and get an idea of what she was thinking, but it was impossible. He had a class to teach. He called them to order and Emma stepped out from behind the screen, wearing his robe. Did it smell like her now?  _Stop it, you ponce._

He had a stool for her today; the idea of her reclined wasn't something he could handle just yet. Emma looked at it curiously, but only hesitated for the briefest moment before removing the robe. She licked her lips as she sat, considering how to position herself. He thought he caught a tremor of nerves; he  _wished_ he knew how she was feeling. He couldn't bear to see her distressed; it was the only thing that outweighed the attraction.

Taking a deep breath, Killian stepped up to the platform, gently taking her hands in his. She looked up at him with huge eyes and he smiled. She gave him a tiny smile back. “How about this?” he murmured, positioning her hands. Right one over her heart, left over her hip. Then he tipped her chin up.

“Titian?” she whispered.

“So you were paying attention.” Pride and joy swelled in his chest. She had taken the time to learn.

“Yeah. I had a good teacher.”

Maybe there was some hope for them after all.

He stepped back, allowing the class to work. Her golden hair wasn't as long as that of the famous painting, but she was exquisite nonetheless. His heart beat faster just watching her.

The ache of wanting to hold her, to run his fingers through her hair, was even more acute now that they were face to face. Emma tried to maintain her pose, to keep her eyes fixed on the ceiling, but he caught her looking at him. Did she feel the same? Wednesday night he'd have unequivocally answered in the affirmative. Now all he could do was hope.

When it was time for break, Killian got the masking tape to mark her position. Her breathing hitched as he touched her, pressing the tape to her skin. He only touched where it was absolutely necessary, respecting her space. Then he got the robe for her, glancing away as she shrugged into it.

“Emma, I think...”

“Please,” she said softly. “Can we just...wait? I know I said later, but...”

Killian nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. This most likely wasn't the best place for that talk. Too many prying ears and eyes. “Of course, love.”

He started to walk away but she grabbed his wrist. “Killian?”

“Yes?”

“I don't regret it.”

He let out a breath he wasn't aware of holding. It was something, at least.

* * *

Emma mentally cursed herself the moment Killian walked away. She knew they needed to talk; she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She was too afraid. All the things she felt when she kissed him came rushing back the moment her eyes clashed with his again. It was enormous and overwhelming and it scared her.

She spent the day before either in the library or in class, purposely burying herself in work. If she was working, then she couldn't wonder where Killian was or what he was thinking. It was her nature to assume the worst...did he hate her now? Did he think she was throwing herself at him, like one of his fangirls? She liked spending time with him; what if she ruined the new friendship they had? Or worse, what if he felt the same and they tried to be together and it all blew up in her face? Could they even be together?

It was all too much, so she avoided it as best she could. She purposely waited until the last moment to come to class, taking the coward's way out and hating herself for it. She wasn't a coward.

Then he took her hands and placed them on her torso; she felt her frantically beating heart under her palm. There was no hatred or derision in his eyes; that eased her anxiety a bit. Then he smiled and she couldn't stop herself from smiling back. She always thought he had a wonderful smile. Still, there was a tension she couldn't shake. Every time she stole a glance at him, she could see the heat in his gaze. Some of the conflict she felt, a desire to continue what they had started.

At least she thought she did.

But she'd been wrong before.

_Neal was an overgrown child_ , she scolded herself. To have him be the standard for the entire male half of the species seemed unfair. And Killian had only ever been nice. A gentleman. She remembered the sketch in the gallery; he'd lost someone, someone he cared about. Perhaps he'd had his heartbroken like she had.

She just didn't know. She needed time to think.

After class she went home, instead of the library. She fixed a sandwich and decided to watch some  _Castle_ to clear her head. She was starting the second episode when the door opened.

“Emma? You're home.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

Elsa dropped her bag by the door. “No, I'm just surprised. Don't you usually stay on campus?”

“Yeah, different plan today.” She took a sip of her drink. “How's the float? Ready for tonight?”

Elsa sat in the armchair across from her, hands folded primly in her lap. “Yeah, we're good to go.” Then she frowned; Emma knew she wouldn't like what came next. “Listen, you'll probably say this is none of my business and maybe it's not, but I'm your friend, Emma. And I'm a bit worried about you.”

Emma sighed. “You worry too much, Elsa.”

“Older sister,” she replied, shrugging. “It's my nature. But really. You've been weird ever since the party. And before that, but this is different. Did something happen? Was it Peter?”

“So his name was Peter.”

“You talked to him for almost an hour and you didn't know his name!”

It was Emma's turn to shrug. “Guess I was distracted.”

“What is going on? I know I haven't been around much lately, but you're my best friend. I want to help, if I can.”

Emma switched off the TV. “I kissed Killian.”

“Killian... _oh my god!_ ” Elsa cried. “Killian as in Killian _Jones?_ ”

Emma rolled her eyes. “How many Killians do we know, Elsa?

Elsa just gaped. “When? Where? How was it?”

“I'm kinda having a crisis here and you want to know how it was?”

Elsa have her a sly grin. “Well, if it was terrible you wouldn't be having a crisis now would you?” she said reasonably. “You'd just shake it off and move on, all apologies to Taylor Swift.”

Emma cringed inwardly, even though Elsa had a point. She'd had zero problems with casual hook ups before this. But no boy she'd made out with at a party made her feel like Killian did. Then again...Killian wasn't a  _boy._ “Okay, fine. It was...well, it was amazing actually.”

Elsa gave a little clap of her hands. “I knew it!”

“Wait, what? Were you one of his...fangirls too?”

Elsa looked horrified. “Oh no! No, I swear. I mean, come on, Emma. I have eyes. I'm an artist. Even I can see he's hot. He's just not my type.” She shrugged helplessly. “He just...looks like he'd be a good kisser.”

“Well, he is.” And that was only one kiss. She could only imagine how good it would be with practice. _Stop it, Emma._

“So...are you gonna kiss him again? Is that your crisis?”

“Elsa, he's a professor. I'm a student, remember?”

“So? You're not _his_ student. He's not grading you.”

“Yeah, but I do technically work for him. He's seen me naked!”

“Emma...” Elsa sighed. “This kind of thing isn't that uncommon, you know. And you're only going to be modeling for a few more weeks. If you really like him...”

“The fact that he's older doesn't bother you?”

“Does it bother you? Look at my parents; they're six years apart. Hasn't stopped them. You are both adults. What matters is how you feel. I've seen you smile more this semester than I have in a long time. You're happy when you leave in the morning.”

“We keep running into each other,” Emma admitted. She told Elsa everything; it felt good to tell someone. Elsa had stuck with her all these years, had put up with her faults. And it was Elsa's fault that she met Killian in the first place.

“So what are you gonna do?” Elsa asked when she finished.

“He wants to talk. We need to talk. I can't just jump him again.”

Elsa laughed. “You didn't jump him, exactly.”

“Just made him jealous and dragged him into a broom closet.”

“Well, Ingrid did tell you to live a little.”

“I don't think this is what she had in mind.”

“That fact that you _could_ make him jealous...he must really like you, Emma.”

Emma blushed. “At least I'm not _pretty_ sure he's not gay.”

Elsa giggled. “I told you, didn't I?”

“Ha, ha.” Emma looked at the time. “Crap, I've gotta get back. See you at the parade?”

“You don't have to...especially if you get...you know, hung up.”

Emma stared at Elsa, a bit stunned. Then she rolled her eyes. “I'm coming, Elsa. You worked hard; hell, I did a bit on the damn thing. I wanna see it in action.”

If she happened to speak to Killian before that, then that was her business.

Emma grabbed her bag, shrugging into her coat. She called a thank you to Elsa then left to drive to campus. Parking was its usual nightmare and she only just made it to Killian's afternoon class. No matter what else was going on with them, Emma would still do her damn job.

Killian couldn't hide his relief when she stepped through the door. This time, she smiled at him as she passed. Elsa had given her a lot to think about; the tension between them remained, but it wasn't as oppressive as it had been only that morning. At least now Emma was sure he didn't hate her or think less of her. If anything, he was being very respectful of her space. A little _too_ respectful, if Emma was being completely honest with herself. Seeing that glimpse of jealousy the other night had given her fantasies that she tried very hard not to think about.

She _wanted_ to know what they'd be like together.

Emma ducked behind the screen and stripped, throwing on the robe hastily. She stepped out while Killain was still speaking, disappointed when he left her to her own devices. She swooped some loose strands of hair back into the knot on top of her head, then turned her back to disrobe. She considered the bench carefully, ultimately choosing to keep her back to the class. She tucked a pillow at one end and lay on her left side, head propped up with the pillow and her hand. She tucked her left foot around her right calf, giving just a hint of looking over her shoulder.

She couldn't see Killian from where she was but she knew he was staring at her. She could _feel_ those deep blue orbs on her. A shiver shot down her spine and she had goosebumps on her arms. Emma licked her lips, trying not to fidget. Maybe turning her back was a mistake.

Her brain must have been going a mile a minute because before she knew it, it was break time. Killian's heavy footfalls got closer; she turned her head a bit to see. His eyes were dark, the tips of his ears red.

“You are bloody well trying to kill me, lass,” he whispered. His voice was so soft she barely made it out.

“We need to talk,” she whispered back. He pressed tape to her leg, marking where her foot was.

“After,” he said quickly. His warm fingers brushed her hip where her elbow rested and Emma bit her lip. Heat settled deep in her stomach; she couldn't allow herself to be distracted. “Alright, Emma?”

She let out a breath. “Yeah, I'm fine.” She looked up at him; the longing on his face took her breath away.

“I'll let you stretch.” He retreated quickly and Emma stood. She shrugged on the robe before moving back behind the screen to stretch. Her skin still tingled where he'd touched her.

What _did_ she want? She wanted to kiss him again, for starters. But Emma didn't think Killian was a casual hook up kind of man. He'd been teaching for several years; according to Elsa, he didn't date. There was nothing casual about the way he looked at her, the way he'd kissed her back in the broom closet. If they crossed the line, there would be no going back.

The question was...could she handle that?

After her break, she reassumed her pose. She ran through conversations in her head, trying to figure out what she wanted to say to him. Time seemed to fly by; it felt like only minutes later, Killian was calling for everyone to pack up. Emma's heart started to hammer in her chest, realizing that this was it. Now or never.

She dressed quickly, grabbing her coat and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She found Killian by his desk, satchel stretched across his chest.

“My office?” he said quietly.

“Um, sure.” The classroom wasn't the right place for this. They followed the stragglers out, Emma trailing in his wake. They didn't speak on the way across the dying grass. Killian held the door open for her; the halls were empty as they walked to his office. The door was right where Emma remembered, she stepped through it, swallowing heavily when Killian closed it behind him with a soft click.

Emma was surprised when he moved to his desk, dumping his satchel and sitting in the chair. Honestly, she half expected him to kiss her and was surprised how disappointed she felt when he didn't. Instead, Emma dropped her own bag and sat in the other chair.

“So, um,” she began inarticulately.

“You left,” he said, looking in her eyes.

She didn't need him to clarify. “Yeah, I did. That a crime now?” He looked hurt and she winced inwardly. Why did she always need to attack? “Sorry.”

“Were you being honest earlier? About not regretting it?”

Emma wet her lips nervously. “Yeah, I was. Do you? Regret it, I mean.”

He opened his mouth to answer and got interrupted by his phone ringing. Killian made a very rude sound, fishing it out of his pocket. His face fell when he looked at the screen. “I am so sorry, Emma,” he said apologetically. “I have to take this, it's my brother.”

“Right! Of course, I understand.” She was actually fuming, but she'd never tell him that. He didn't ask for his brother to call right then. “I'll just, um, go.”

“I really think we should finish our talk, lass.”

Or, maybe the universe was trying to tell them something. It made her sad. “I'll be at the homecoming parade tonight. I promised Elsa. Sorry.” She snatched up her bag before he could respond, leaving him to talk to his brother.

Elsa would help her drown her sorrows after the parade.

* * *

Killian cursed as he hit the green button on his phone. “Is that any way to say hello to your only brother, Killian?” Liam said.

“Ugh, sorry, brother. Bad time.” He really felt like he and Emma were on the verge of something and it had just been snatched away.

“Is it that woman you keep insisting doesn't exist?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “Do I ring you up to interrogate you, Liam?”

“No, but perhaps you should start.”

Killian chuckled hollowly. “Very well, I'll bite. What's going on in your world, brother?”

“How do you feel about being an uncle?”

Killian started. “What? Is Molly...?”

He could hear Liam's proud grin. “Indeed. Found out today for sure. In about seven months, we'll have a little one to look after.”

Killian smiled. “That's fantastic news, Liam. Really. I'm happy for you.”

“Would be better if I knew if him or her could would be seeing their uncle regularly.”

Killian sighed. “We've been through this. I like it where I am.”

“But are you happy, Killian? Truly? I don't know exactly why you left—god knows, you won't tell me. But running away isn't the answer.”

“I didn't run away,” he hissed. It was only partially a lie. “Is it such a bad thing for me to have my own life?”

Liam sighed. They'd had this argument too many times. This was a happy occasion. “I don't want to fight with you. I merely wanted to share some happy news with my brother.”

Killian felt bad, even though he knew there was no way around their impasse. “I am thrilled for you, Liam. And Molly. You'll be cracking good parents, I know it.”

“I hope so,” Liam said. He paused. “You know I just want you to be as happy as we are, don't you?”

“Aye, I know.” He looked at his watch. If he hurried he might be able to find Emma at the homecoming parade. He was determined to finish their conversation. “Look, I've got to go. Can we talk later?”

“Of course. Bye, Killian.”

“Bye, Liam.” They hung up and Killian grabbed his satchel. He'd never actually attended the parade before; he only had the vaguest idea of the route. He would be very lucky indeed if he found her.

He had to drive down some unfamiliar streets; the parade blocked most of the main roads. He found a parking spot along a quaint residential street; then headed in the direction of all the noise. He wasn't entirely certain this was a good idea; she hadn't _invited_ him to the parade. But then she hadn't invited him to the party either. It was a ridiculous game of cat and mouse, waiting to see what the other would do.

Hopefully, they could put an end to it and actually find their way, whatever that entailed. He hoped.

Killian hadn't expected so many _people._ The town's main street was crowded; alumni, students, friends, families all lined the street, waiting for the parade to pass. He could see it further down the street, approaching slowly. As he scanned the crowd as he strode along, searching for Emma's red jacket and golden hair. Most everyone was dressed in the school colors, so she shouldn't be difficult to spot.

Unfortunately, he underestimated the teaming crowd, people coming and going, buying cotton candy and other trinkets. He was getting more and more frustrated; once he had to dodge a running six year old boy, a tiny football clutched in his fist. Normally, Killian liked children, but it took all his willpower not to curse under his breath.

The parade had arrived, marching bands, floats of exotic design. He tried to figure out which one was Elsa's; he never asked Emma what her friend was making. It was difficult for him to focus on anything else when she was around.

He pulled his jacket in close, fumbling with the zipper. It was getting a downright cold at night these days. He thought about checking the other side of the street, but it would be a challenge getting across with the parade in progress.

He loved a challenge.

He moved down the street looking for a gap in the parade. He got half a block when he heard someone calling him. “Killian, wait!”

He turned around; _Emma_ was hurrying toward him. “Emma?”

“I've been looking for you,” she said, a bit breathless.

“You were?”

She glared at him. “No, I'm just this out of breath normally.”

Killian gave her an apologetic smile, scratching behind his ear. “Sorry, love. It's just that I've been looking for you. I didn't like the way we left things.”

“I didn't either.”

He looked around; it was loud, far too loud for them to talk properly. “Would you, ah, like to take a walk?”

She gave him a nervous smile. “Sure.” He offered her his arm and she took it. Killian led them back toward campus, which was largely empty now. Street lamps lit the sidewalk, giving everything a soft ethereal glow. “You never answered my question,” Emma said, once they were alone.

“You didn't give me a chance to.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“I think I understand, love.” He smiled at her. “But it's something we can rectify now, if you still want to know.” She nodded. “I could give you a litany of reasons why I _should_ regret our kiss, but I don't. In fact, I enjoyed it very much.”

Emma looked relieved. “I did too.”

“Who was the boy?”

“Huh? Oh.” He couldn't be sure, but he thought she was blushing. “Peter, apparently.”

“Apparently?”

“I was too distracted to learn his name. I was calling him Mr. P in my head.”

At that, Killian did laugh. “Whatever could have had you distracted to that degree, Emma?”

“Seriously, Mr. I-just-have-to-breathe-and-have-one-hundred-girls-at-my-beck-and-call?”

“It was hardly a hundred.” Emma glared at him. “There was only one woman in that room I was interested in, Emma.”

She drew them to a stop. They were in front of the old observatory. “So what happens now?”

“That is entirely up to you.” He took a deep breath. If there was ever a time to ask, then this was it. “But I think you should know that I...I would _very_ much enjoy sketching you...in private.”

She looked at him with those beautiful green eyes, almost catlike in the dim light. She glanced down to his hands then back, appearing deep in thought. He stayed quiet, giving her all the time she needed. He didn't even expect an answer. Giving him a good smack and stalking off was what she should do.

She unhooked their arms, her hand sliding down to catch his. She took it in hers, lacing the fingers together. Her eyes flickered from their hands, to his eyes, to his lips. Then before he could say a word, she leaned forward and kissed him. Just the softest brush of her lips. He fought the urge to pull her into his arms; this was different, sweeter, an affirmation. His heart pounded in his chest.

She pulled away, smiling. “Yes.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

“See you on Monday, Granny!” Emma called as she left the diner. She waved at the old lady, trying to downplay the nerves she was feeling.

Emma headed over to the parking garage where her Bug waited. She still had a couple of hours before going to Killian's house. Part of her still couldn't believe she was taking him up on his offer...the rest of her was a mixture of excited and nervous. Emma wasn't naive. She had a pretty good idea what would happen once they were alone. The idea that he wanted her as much if not more than she wanted him was staggering.

She went home after a quick stop at the drug store. If things _did_ go in the direction she suspected then she was going to be prepared. Elsa wasn't home when Emma arrived; she had only been able to give her friend the briefest of explanations when she left her at the parade the night before. Emma had gotten home late, walking with Killian until she was shivering. He walked her to her car and kissed the back of her hand before leaving her.

She dumped her gym bag and headed for the bathroom, intending to take a long cleansing shower. She absolutely was not motivated by a desire to get the stench of stale coffee and burgers off of her skin. She washed twice, her vanilla scented body wash making the bathroom smell nice. After, she stood in front of her closet, trying to decide what to wear.

That was when she really started to get nervous. Was this a date? Were they in a relationship now? Emma didn't know how many first dates involved nude posing, if that's what he meant when he said he wanted to sketch her. That  _was_ what he meant, right? Theoretically, he could sketch her whenever he wanted in his classes, but she  _knew_ this was different. She could sense it in the adorably shy way he'd asked. He wasn't asking her there a  _model_ . This was something he'd wanted for a long time.

God, she prayed she had read him correctly.

Cursing her own indecision, Emma slipped on her nicest bra and panty set—black, trimmed in lace—and found her favorite hip hugging jeans. It was properly cold now, so she opted for blood red cable knit sweater; the fabric clung to her curves. She looked at herself critically in the full length mirror; she really hoped this was some sort of date or even more than a date. She really did like him, wanted to impress him.

Emma went fairly light on the makeup, just enough to bring out her eyes, stain her lips red to match her sweater. She debated for a while about her hair, ultimately choosing to pull it back. It would be easier for her to pin it up when he sketched her.

She shivered just thinking about it.

She looked at the clock; it was 6:30. Killian had programmed his number and address into her phone; she'd already checked it out on Google Maps. He lived in a sparse neighborhood on the edge of town in a small two story house. It was cute, not at all what she expected. Then again, Killian was the first professor she'd looked at as a person and not someone giving out assignments and grading papers. She wondered why he chose that place.

Perhaps she could ask him.

She slipped her wallet and drug store purchase in her small purse, then grabbed her coat and keys. She left a note for Elsa, letting her know that she was out and not to wait up. Then she climbed back into her Bug and headed out.

The homecoming football game hadn't started yet, but almost everyone was out at the stadium tailgating. That made traffic light as she drove through town; she got to Killian's ten minutes sooner than she thought, parking in his driveway. Should she wait until seven?  _Stop being an idiot, Swan._

Gathering her courage, Emma got out of the car and walked up to the door. And knocked. And waited. And waited. Her heart started pounding as she tried not to chew on her lip. Had she gotten it all wrong? Her eyes searched the door frame for a button to ring the bell; she found it to her right, nearly obscured by an overgrown bush.

She pressed it.

It took another minute for the door to open.

It was a bit like their first meeting all over again, as they stood on either side of the entry way. Killian's eyes locked with hers; she felt rooted to the spot. She couldn't place all the emotions she saw in the deep blue depths, but happiness and awe dominated. He too was wearing jeans along with a gray button down shirt and blue silk vest, his hair soft and inky black.

“You came,” he said, a bit dumbly.

She tried to smile. “Of course I did.”

Killian swallowed. “I was a bit afraid last night had been a particularly cruel dream, love.”

_Had he dreamed about her?_ “If it was, then we had the same one,” she quipped. “Lotsa people? Ugly floats? A quiet stroll through campus?”

Killian smiled, the dimples flashing in his cheeks. “That would be the one.” Then he stepped back. “Please. Come in, Emma.”

She ducked her head, suddenly feeling a bit bashful as she entered his home.

“May I take your coat?” He sounded so formal; Emma burst into giggles. Killian frowned. “It might have been a while since I've done this, love, but I was trying to be a gentleman.”

Emma calmed herself, letting him slip the coat from her shoulders. He hung it on a peg, next to his own. “Been a while since you've done what?” she asked.

Killian looked her up and down, his eyes darkening a bit.  _There_ he was. “Had a beautiful woman in my home.”

Emma blushed. “What made you change your mind?”

He stepped closer, gently picking up her hand, kissing the pad of each finger. “I thought that was obvious, Emma.”

Okay, now her heart was stuttering as she tried to remember to breathe. She wanted to kiss him, but still wasn't sure that was appropriate for whatever they were doing now. As if reading her thoughts, Killian's tongue darted out to wet his lips; Emma struggled not to moan. He was hardly touching her—still just her hand, inches from his face—but she was on fire already.

The moment stretched for a long time, with them simply drinking each other in. “Shall we?” Killian said softly.

“Um...”

“A glass of wine?”

“Oh! Sure. Wine is...is good.” She was never this nervous on a date, but deep down she knew this was more. This thing with them—whatever it was—had been building since the moment they met, almost as if the world was throwing them together on purpose. Over and over again.

Killian smiled that happy toothy grin and led her by the hand deeper into his home. They passed the living room, which was sparsely furnished with a couple of leather armchairs and a threadbare couch. The TV was mounted on the wall. The house looked clean and well kept, which struck her as funny.

“Something amusing, love?” Killian asked, guiding her to his kitchen.

“It's just...well, I live with an artist,” she said, looking at him. “And our place isn't nearly this clean.”

Killian chuckled. “I may have tidied up a bit. Did a thorough cleansing a couple of weeks ago actually.”

“You must have been really bored.”

“It was raining and I had nowhere else to be.” _Oh_. Could it have been after they spent the afternoon in the gallery? She watched as Killian uncorked the wine bottle; it opened with a soft pop. He let it breathe for a minute or so then poured them each a glass. His fingers brushed hers as he handed her a glass. “Cheers?”

Emma smiled. “Cheers.” They clinked and drank. The wine was really good, a smooth red that she'd never had before. “Hmm, that's really good,” she complimented.

“Does the lass know her wines?”

Emma shrugged. “A little. I'm usually more of a beer girl, college and all that.”

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

“Planning on serving often?”

He smirked. “I genuinely hope so.”

Emma covered her gulp by taking another drink of her wine. “When I turned twenty one, Elsa and some of our friends insisted we go bar hopping.”

“Judging by your tone, I gather it was a less than pleasant experience?”

“Let's just say Emma learned when to quit the hard way.” Throwing up in the hallway of her friend Mary Margaret's apartment building, then passing out cold in her living room definitely gave Emma some perspective on drinking.

“Would you like to know a secret?”

She smiled. “Sure.”

“I was a lad of fifteen when I had my first drink. My brother, Liam, tried to pass it off as really strong tea.”

“What was it?”

“Rum.” Killian smiled. “Drank the whole thing then promptly passed out.”

They both laughed. There was still tension, still anticipation of what the night could have in store for them, but Emma felt calmer knowing their banter was still in place. They finished their wine; Killian took her hand again. Emma's breathing hitched but her hand was steady. For now. “Where do you want me?” she asked.

Killian stared for a moment, then swallowed. “That is a very loaded question, love.”

She felt a thrill shoot through her; it was heady, knowing how much they could effect each other. “Why do you think I asked it?”

“Bloody minx.” He tightened his fingers around hers. “My studio is in the back.”

“You have your own studio?”

“You'll be the first to cross the threshold, aside from myself.”

“Wow,” she couldn't help but say.

Killian brushed his lips over her knuckles again. “Come.”

Emma let him guide her through the house, to a large, mostly bare, room. The only things in here were a bench much like the one in his classroom, a few stools, a screen and a long table for his art supplies. French doors and a side window must let in natural light during the day, but now only showed darkness smattered with stars. There were a couple of lamps, but no overhead light. Killian let go of her long enough to turn them on, illuminating him in their soft glow. The shadows and angles merely highlighted the handsomeness of his face; Emma felt a sweet ache in her chest, wanting so badly to kiss him.

“Emma?”

He stood in front of her, looking bit shy and perhaps a little confused. Emma had no idea what her face looked like. Before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped in close and cradled his face in her hands. She liked the way his scruff rubbed and scratched her palms. Emma had to get up on her toes a bit—the boots didn't give her much height—but she managed to brush her lips over his. She shivered as he wrapped his arms around her waist, but he didn't pull her closer. Emma pressed harder, trying to get him to open up for her.

Killian pulled back with a frustrated groan. “Emma...we should...wait,” he breathed.

“Wait for _what?”_ she demanded. If he tried that gentleman crap again, she was going to seriously consider punching him in his handsome face.

His smile flickered as he stroked her cheek. “You promised I could sketch you, darling,” he murmured softly. The sweet endearment made her heart thud loudly in her chest. Where did he even  _come from?_

“Oh. You really want to?”

He nodded. “For longer than I care to admit, to be truthful. But I want what you want, Emma. Do you believe me?”

She searched his eyes, but there was nothing but earnestness and desire in his gaze. “Yeah.”

“May I have this one thing?”

“You may.” To her surprise, he kissed her, far too quickly for her liking. But they'd waited this long, what was another hour or so? She smiled when he let her go. “I'm assuming I need to change?”

He smirked. “If you would be so kind, Miss Swan.”

She rolled her eyes but headed for the screen. There was a robe behind it; Emma picked it up. It was soft terrycloth, green. She caught a whiff of something familiar...it was the same woodsy scent from her robe in Killian's class. Had they come from the same place? Or the same  _person?_ It didn't take her criminal justice background to deduce the robe's origin.

Knowing now that both robes were Killian's...Emma was in very big trouble.

She put down the robe and started to strip. It was a familiar feeling but her hands shook in a way they hadn't since her first nude pose. This wasn't for a classroom filled with strangers, this was for Killian. And only for him.

Emma picked up the robe, then thought better of it. If she was going to do this, then she should do it in a way that was blow him away. She held her head up, chin out, as she stepped from behind the screen.

* * *

Killian was berating himself the entire time Emma was changing. Or, more specifically, his cock was berating him. He wanted her so much...having her in his home and not ravishing her was making him crazy. Especially now that he knew they wanted the same thing...badly. Her kiss nearly had him undone, foregoing his carefully laid plan and just taking what she was offering. It was a willpower he didn't know he possessed that got him to step back and ask her to allow him to sketch her.

He got out his easel and pad, planted the high stool in front and angled it so that they could see each other while he sketched. He'd been hovering on the edge of arousal since she arrived, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hide it any longer once she stepped out from behind the screen. But at that point, he didn't want to hide it. He wanted her to know how much she tormented him.

He tried not to stare at the screen, but as the minutes ticked by he gave up. What was taking so long? Had she changed her mind? He didn't know what he would do if she did. He was composing the speech in his head when she appeared.

She was entirely nude.

For a moment he couldn't breathe, stunned speechless. He expected her to use the robe. He expected to watch her peel out of it. Instead she was naked as the day she was born and utterly perfect to his eyes.

Emma crept closer on bare feet, pausing in front of the bench. “Do you want to help me?” she asked, wetting her lips. Killian could already see her nipples hardening, the pink areola darkening ever so slightly.

Her voice shook him from his stupor and he rushed over to her. “First,” he said, impressed at how steady his voice was at the moment, “we need to take this down.” He reached for her hair tie and eased it from her long golden tresses. Emma stood utterly still as he combed his fingers through it, feeling the silkiness. He lightly massaged her scalp; he heard her moan softly. The sound went straight to his cock and he had to bite his lip. Hard.

“I thought you needed my hair up?” Emma asked.

“We're not in class, love. And I not a student.” His fingers threaded through the loose curls. “God, I love you hair.” He'd noticed it the very first time they met; it felt as amazing as he'd imagined. His fingers itched to touch more of her, but he held back. There would be time. They had all night.

If he had his way, he'd try and persuade her to stay.

Emma's heart thudded in her chest; she could feel the heat rolling off him. “Killian...” God, her voice sounded breathy and wanton and he was still hardly touching her.

He sucked in a deep calming breath. “Lie back, Emma. In any pose you choose.”

He turned his back before he did something else, moving to the stool. He sat and picked up his charcoal. He'd pictured this moment so many times since the first time she posed in his class; he couldn't believe it was actually happening. Finally, he looked up.

He expected her to use her long hair to obscure some part of herself, but Emma surprised him yet again. She had one leg dangling over the front edge of the bench, the other bent, as the bench wasn't quite long enough for her to stretch out completely. The way she had her hips angled gave him a fleeting glimpse of her bare mound. She lay back on the pillows he'd supplied, one delicate hand resting tantalizing on her stomach, the other up near her head, a few tendrils of hair twirled around her fingers. She was staring at him, green eyes burning with lust, searing him with a look.

Good lord, she really was trying to kill him.

Killian didn't know how long he stared, utterly enamored with her. At length, he realized he needed to get a move on or they truly would be here all night. He brought the charcoal to the page and began to sketch.

Emma kept her breathing as shallow as possible. In this she was helped (and hindered) by the deep seated arousal she felt. She watched in fascination as his eyes flickered constantly between her and the page, his hand moving with sure strokes. Classes were nothing like this; this was heat and want passing between them, churning like a summer storm, the air thick and heavy. Emma gave him the same scrutiny, taking in the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his lips moved (almost as if he were talking to himself), the set of his shoulders as his hand flew over the page. He sat facing her, legs splayed and Emma could see his erection clearly through the denim. She gulped a little; her first impression was that he was bigger than she expected. The thought made her squirm a bit on the bench, her core clenching. She was already wet; she could feel it in the cool air of the room.

_Hurry up,_ she thought over and over. She knew this was important to him and didn't want to ruin the moment, but she was burning up, needing to be touched.

Emma's skin was completely flushed now, Killian noted, the rosy pink of her nipples spreading. One day he'd do this with color and capture the way she looked when aroused. There was no doubt that she was  _very_ aroused, her nipples sharp points, the glistening sex. The fact that she was turned on by him sketching her turned  _him_ on; he was rock hard in his jeans, the material straining. He could hardly focus, but he pushed through it, wanting to capture this moment on the page. He smoothed out the shadows around her breasts, molded the contour of her stomach and navel. He shaded the pout of her lips and the burning gaze, before capturing the light in her hair.

And then he was finished.

He put down the charcoal and surveyed his work. He was sure he would find flaws later, but he felt it captured her siren's song amazingly well. The indefinable thing that drew him in.

“Can I see?” she asked, jolting him.

“If you wish.”

Emma moved to stand, her muscles protesting a tiny bit. She'd been stationary for a little over an hour, she was certain it would be worth it. She didn't bother to cover herself as she closed the space between them. Killian held out his hand for her and she took it, allowing him to draw her to stand between his open legs, facing the sketch.

_Oh_.

She knew Killian was talented, but she wasn't prepared to see herself through his eyes. She looked like a goddess or nymph from a Renaissance painting, only in black and white. It almost felt like she could reach out and touch; it seemed so lifelike. She bit her lip, trying to find words for what she was feeling.

“Emma?” Oh god, he sounded so nervous!

“It's...beautiful, Killian.”

“But less so than the lady herself.”

“Is this really how you see me?”

“You doubt me?”

Emma turned, still not quite having the words for the most moving moment of her life. So instead she relied on her actions. She ran her thumb over his lips, cupping his cheeks in her hands. Then she brought his lips to hers.

It was as if someone had lit a match. The lingering tension snapped into focus, each of them moaning into the kiss. Almost tentatively, his hands slid over her waist, fingertips skimming over the curve of her spine.

“Emma,” he panted, lips loving along her jaw, down her throat. “I should...hands dirty...”

Did he really thing she cared about that? If anything, it only made her burn hotter. “No, I want you...just like this.” Her fingers dived into his hair as his mouth licked along her collar, his hands moving eagerly over her skin now. She would probably have black streaks all over her back and stomach but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Killian was too hot, with too many clothes, but he couldn't bring himself to stop touching her long enough to strip. He'd imagined this moment a thousand different ways, and here she was bare before him, begging for his touch. He cupped one breast in his hand and gave her a wicked grin. When his lips wrapped around a pert nipple, Emma keened, her back arching, fingers pulling his hair.

“Oh my god,” Emma gasped, clenching her thighs. A fierce ache like she had never known before rested between her legs, she struggled with needing more and loving every sweep of his tongue on her sensitive skin. He switched breasts and she moaned again—louder this time—pure want making her clit throb painfully.

“Emma...fuck, the sounds you make...” He nipped sharply on her breast and Emma hissed in pleasure. And his profanity merely made her wetter.

“Clothes,” she whined in complaint, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “I want to see you too.”

He stopped and looked up at her, pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of that lovely blue to be seen. “You have me, love.”

Killian took her proffered hand, and she pulled him into a standing position. It momentarily eased the ache in his groin; the jeans far too tight now. Emma moved them back to the bench, turning so she was facing him.

“Here, darling?” He fantasized about having her in this very studio; he never expected it to come true so soon.

Emma merely nodded. She stood on her toes and kissed him, hands sliding down his chest. She found the buttons of his vest and pried them loose with deft fingers. Still kissing him, she rolled it off his shoulders and it fell to the floor. He offered to help, but Emma just shook her head. “You've seen me naked,” she said. “Now I want to strip you.”

A shiver raced down his spine, but he nodded. He would give her anything she asked, as long as she didn't stop. She nibbled at his Adam's apple, repeating the process with his dress shirt, yanking it from his jeans. Her mouth moved lower, pressing open mouthed kisses over his chest, her tongue swirling around his nipples.

“Fuck,” he swore. It was so difficult to remain still, to let her explore. She flashed him a smile, blunt nails raking through his chest hair. After she peeled the shirt from his body, she followed the trail of hair down his abdomen, unconsciously licking her lips. “Bloody hell, Emma.”

“Hmmm?”

“You have no idea how badly I want to touch you right now.”

She palmed him though the bulge in his pants. “I beg to differ, Killian.”

Killian's breathing hitched; it was like she was doing everything in her power to _kill_ him on the spot. He couldn't remember ever wanting like this; it was only Emma. “Love, _please_.”

She whipped the belt open and tore it from the loops. She opened his fly; Killian groaned in relief, then again in pleasure as Emma dipped her small hand into his boxers and started to stroke his cock. Emma moaned, her own need mounting, savoring the rock hard smoothness in her hand. He _was_ big, thick and longer than she was used to. She imagined him filling her and she cursed softly.

“God, I want you so much,” she breathed, reaching up with her free hand and pulling him down by the neck. He met her fierce needy kiss, roughly shoving his pants and boxers down his hips. The moment he stepped out of them he pulled her flush against his chest; she sighed into his mouth, thrilled to finally be skin to skin with him. His chest hair rubbed her nipples as his hands moved over her lower back and ass, squeezing.

Killian nudged them to the bench, each of them kneeling on it. They broke their kiss, catching their breath, hands still stroking their heated, flushed skin. “Emma...I've dreamed about this...often.” He kissed her neck, lips sliding to where neck met shoulder and biting down. Emma bit her lip and moaned, hips rocking fruitlessly, her body demanding friction. The fingers of his left had were cleaner and he skimmed them down her trembling stomach until he found where she was soaked.

“Yes,” she panted, spreading her legs on the bench. “Oh god.” She couldn't describe how good it felt to having him touch her there.

“So bloody wet,” he breathed. “Fuck.” They teased each other, Killian rubbing her slick flesh as Emma stroked his cock, getting caught up in deep heated kisses.

“Killian...I...I need...”

“I know what you need, love.” He slid a finger inside her drenched heat; she clenched around him.

“No, I want you inside me. Please, Killian.”

He kissed her hard on the mouth, still stroking her; she was going to feel incredible around him.

He broke the kiss and said “pants” at the same time she said “purse.” They both let out strangled laughs. “Mine's closer, lass,” Killian pointed out.

Emma gave his cock a twist before letting him go to find his pants. “Good to know we were both prepared,” she quipped, biting back a moan, as he was still fingering her. She found the foil pack in his back pocket, straightening up triumphantly. She gave him a long slow kiss as she ripped it open and glided the condom over his impressive length.

“Still sure?” Killian asked, pulling away to stroke her cheek tenderly.

“Yeah.” She expected him to lay her out on the bench, but instead he leaned back on his haunches. Emma climbed into his lap, her core finally coming into contact with his sheathed cock. She was trembling, her desire at a fever pitch. But still they moved slowly, focusing on the power of the moment.

She took him in her hand and guided him; Emma keened and panted as he slowly filled her. She was very wet, more than ready, but he was large and didn't want to hurt her. Killian's hands splayed over her back, holding her up as she rocked in his lap, adjusting to his size, the feeling of being full.

“I knew you'd be hot,” Killian growled low in his throat. Emma lifted up and slid back down, both of them sighing loudly. The drag of him along her walls was intoxicating; there was no way she would be able to stop at just one time. “Hot and so fucking tight.”

Emma bit her lip; none of her previous lovers had been into dirty talk but she could feel herself getting wetter as he spoke. “Fuck,” she swore. “Don't stop.”

His hands flew to her hips, guiding her in his lap, adjusting the angle, all while murmuring all the things he'd imagined doing to her. Emma keened, trying to go faster, the pressure building and building. They found the spot with in her and she cried out. “There!” she cried. “God, right there. _Please.”_

“That's it, love,” he said, rocking his hips up into her as she drove down. “So gorgeous riding me.”

Emma dug her fingers into his biceps, trying to hold on, but she was so close to her orgasm. “Killian, I'm...I'm gonna... _god_...”

“Let go, Emma,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “Let me watch you fall.”

Emma clung to his neck as she came, walls clenching, toes curling with the intense pleasure. She was still fluttering as Killian put her on her back, plunging back in without warning. Emma yelled in surprise, quickly melting into a deep moan as more aftershocks shook her.

It took everything Killian had to hold on, to _not_ follow her into oblivion. There wasn't much finesse to his strokes now, just pounding into her over and over. Emma didn't seem to mind, urging him on, bringing her legs high around his waist, locking her ankles. He slipped even deeper into her, bottoming out.

“Oh fuck!” Emma yelled. “I think...I think... _shit_!”

Killian wriggled a hand in between their sweat slicked bodies and found her swollen clit, rubbing it in hard circles. He would enjoy unlocking all of her secrets, everything that made her writhe and moan and scream in pleasure, but right now all he needed was this.

“ _Killian!”_ Emma screaming his name, walls clamping around him a second time, he surrendered to the high, whispering her name over and over as he went still, spilling himself deep within her. He collapsed on top of her for a moment, before mustering the energy to roll off. He didn't want to crush her. He lay awkwardly on his side until he could sort of breathe again. Only then did he get up and dispose of the condom.

Emma missed him as soon as he was gone, just the barest hint of a whimper. That was by far the best sex of her life; she'd  _never_ had two orgasms in one go before. She didn't even know she could have multiple orgasms. The cool air of the room made her shiver as the sweat dried; she had goosebumps on her skin. Emma managed to scoot over, dragging a pillow under her head. She caught Killian's eye and patted the bench for him to join her.

“How do you feel?” Killian said softly, stretching out beside her. He had to tuck his legs around hers since the bench didn't fit him.

“Pretty good, I think.”

He scoffed. “You  _think?”_

She took his hand, brushing his fingers over her lips. “Bit of an ego there, tiger?”

He laced their fingers together. “I've never felt anything like that. Better than I imagined.”

Emma didn't think she could still flush, but she did anyway. “I know the feeling.” They lay there for a long time, huddled together, the room getting cooler. But they didn't make any effort to cover themselves, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Her eyes roved over his body, still taken aback by the lean strength. He was more toned and fit than she expected, even though she'd witnessed some of his strength first hand. She couldn't wait to explore him further. Killian moved his hand and her eyes were drawn to his hip.

“What's that?”

“What's what, love?”

“The tattoo.” It was a tiny circle inked in black, surrounded by six oblong lines of various lengths, also black. It rested just above the V of his hips. She'd never seen anything quite like it.

“Ah. It's a symbol for imagination or so I was told.”

“Told?”

“Had a few too many pints with my brother, years ago. We each came home with a tattoo.”

“It's beautiful.” She traced it with her fingertip, tucking his content sigh in her memory. She snuggled nearer to him, leeching his body heat.

Killian studied the contours of her face, memorizing her with a more intimate knowledge of her. She was starting to doze off; it was getting late. “Emma? Don't go to sleep yet, darling.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, love.” He kissed her brow tenderly. “It's late though. Would you, ah, like to stay?”

“Stay the night?” Killian nodded. Emma opened her mouth to say no, but then wondered why. She already told Elsa not to wait up. If Elsa was even home herself. And Emma didn't have to work tomorrow. She was good on all her school work. And she _was_ interested in exploring what she and Killian seemed to have embarked on this night. “Okay.”

That one word transformed his face; he went from nervous to thrilled in a heartbeat. But then he sobered for a moment. “I have a guest room, if you'd rather...”

“I don't _rather,”_ she said firmly. “I'm going to live a little.”

Killian looked adorably confused, but grinned anyway. She could explain later. And she was becoming increasingly sure they would have a  _later._ He stood and held out his hand for her. She took it and let him lead her to his bedroom.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was the strangest sensation, hot versus cold. So strange than even his sleepy brain registered it. It took him a moment to recall..he was not alone in his bed.

Killian could just make out the golden hair in the dim light, as his bedmate lay snuggled beside him. Wrapped almost entirely in his blanket. Emma, it seemed, was a blanket stealer, which was why he was freezing his arse off.

He had two choices: sneak out from under her and fetch another blanket or try to disentangle her enough to get some of the blanket back then go back to sleep. Because it was far too early to be awake and he wasn't ready to let her go yet. He didn't know what would happen when she woke up and it frightened him more than he was willing to admit.

After a few minutes contemplation, he decided to try and make a dash for the second blanket. She looked so peaceful that he didn't want to risk waking her. But as soon as he tried to move, Emma's body seemed to follow him, her head buried in his shoulder.

“Early,” she mumbled, her legs trapping one of his between them. “Sleep.”

He decided to take her _not_ trying to bolt as a good sign. “Aye, love,” he whispered. “But you've got all the blanket.”

Emma's eyes fluttered open, looking at him sleepily. “Huh?”

He tried to hide his smile. “You've stolen the blanket, lass.”

He watched her brain catch up with his words. “Oh. Habit, sorry.” She untucked it from around her, and opened her arms for him. Killian quickly stole under it; Emma jumped when her skin came into contact with his cold foot and hip. “That's cold!”

“I do apologize. I wasn't expecting to wake up bare. But I think I'll warm up quickly.”

Emma grumbled, but didn't push him away. They were both nude under the heavy blanket, having left their clothes in the studio. Indeed, no sooner had they gotten to his room then they pounced on each other again, quickly making full use of the large bed. He had imagined her like this so many times; he was having trouble believing it was real. Being with her was so much more than he expected; he was loathe to break the spell.

Her eyes were closed; she was probably asleep again. He had no idea what time it was. Perhaps he could make them breakfast later. They should talk before too much more happened between them. It was clear now that they had pretty strong feelings for each other, but they would have to rejoin the real world from their private bubble eventually. Killian didn't want that; he wanted to keep her here with him and map each other out, physically, emotionally, spiritually.

He was afraid he was already in love with her.

Emma shifted, slipping her leg between his this time, her hand sliding over his hip. The relatively innocent movement electrified him; Killian choked on a moan, blood rushing south. His desire for her did not seem to have been banished by their activities the night before; it only increased with  _knowledge_ . Knowing how smooth her skin was, how she moved, her cries in the throes of passion. He yearned for her as he'd yearned for nothing else, but he was damned if he was going to do anything to muck this up.

Emma kept her eyes closed, very aware of the man next to her. She'd been embarrassed when he admitted to her stealing the blanket, so she retreated a bit in feigned sleep. She wasn't accustomed to sharing a bed; the blanket thing was a holdover from her time in the foster system. You learned to hang on to what was yours with all your might.

Which might explain why she'd clung to him in sleep.

They still barely knew each other; everything had a surreal quality to it. She remembered every aspect of last night vividly; it was a memory she desperately wanted to hang on to. She hadn't had many truly  _happy_ moments in her relatively short life.

But that didn't mean they couldn't make more happy memories. She wanted to find out what later was like.

Emma started slow, pretending to innocently touch him under the guise of sleep. He was still naked, gloriously so. She'd gotten to explore him a little the night before; she wanted more. When she heard his sharp intake of breath, she inched closer, so she could brush a featherlight kiss to his chest. She hadn't done this since Neal, the morning after. She wanted to get it right.

One kiss, then two, her leg inching higher between his. He was warm now, no trace of the earlier chill. Killian groaned softly. “You're not asleep, are you?”

Emma shook her head. “Is this okay?”

He raised her head with a finger tucked under her chin. “More than, love.” He lowered his lips to hers, she sighed into it. She instinctively moved closer, drawn to his warmth, hands sliding over his skin. Killian crushed her to his chest; she gave a little yelp of surprise. “I think it's my turn to explore,” he murmured, kissing her again. The first time in his bed had been frantic and needy, their burgeoning desire still razor sharp.

Emma had a feeling he was going to make up for that now.

Killian rolled them so Emma was on her back, still under the blanket. Emma's hips rocked as he kissed her lips, her chin, nipped at her throat. She combed her fingers through his thick dark hair, tiny mewls spilling from her lips.

It was hot under the blanket now, but Killian didn't care; all he wanted to have Emma make that sound as often as possible. Her tentative seduction drove all good intentions from his head; he had to have her again before they left the bed. He palmed her breast, weighing it in his hand. She was soft in all the right places, a work of art. And he intended to worship her as such.

Emma keened and arched as he suckled at her nipple, teasing the other with his hand. Sparks flew the length of her spine, want pulsing her core. Killian grinned wickedly, his tongue swirling around her stiff aching peak. “Hmm, I wonder if the rest of you tastes this good.”

Emma moaned. “Oh god.”

“Wanted to taste you last night,” he continued, finally sweeping the blanket off. The cold room was harsh on her flushed skin; she whimpered. “So many things I want to do to you, lass.”

“So what are you waiting for?”

Killian ignored her impatient tone, choosing to suck at her other nipple, teasing the puckered flesh with his teeth and tongue. Emma was very sensitive there, moaning for him beautifully. He kissed the valley of her breasts, down her stomach, feeling the muscles there tremble under his lips. He circled her navel with his tongue, stroking her hips with questing fingers. It was almost like he was trying to paint her skin with his touch.

“Killian, _please,”_ she panted, wetting her kiss swollen lips. She thought she might go mad if he didn't touch her soon.

Still, he ignored her, sitting up and bringing the arch of her foot to his lips. He kissed her there, rubbing slowly with those talented fingers. Emma's eyes almost rolled back in her head; she had no idea she was sensitive  _there._ Killian smiled at his discovery, hoping it was only the beginning. Anyone who didn't take the time to properly worship her was a fool. He repeated his actions with her other foot, watching her reactions carefully. His cock was begging him to just  _take_ her, but he didn't want this over too soon.

Emma was getting dizzy from lack of air; it was so hard to remember to do simple things like  _breathe_ when he was touching her. She never knew it could feel like this; she'd never had anyone try and figure out what she liked. She'd explored herself, of course, but that was a pale imitation to what Killian was doing to her now.

“Stay with me, Emma,” Killian murmured as he slid his lips along her calf. “I've got you.”

He found a spot behind her knee and she nearly screamed from need.  _“I can't,”_ she whined, head thrashing. “Need...” She needed some kind of relief, if only for a moment.

Killian put her leg down, then gently spread her thighs. Emma gulped down air, trying to calm her racing heart before he started on her again. She shivered hard as he lightly petted her, inhaling her scent. “Do you trust me, Emma?”

She looked down at him with heavy lidded eyes, perched between her thighs. It was a scene she'd imagined before; she wanted exactly what he was offering. “Yes.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled and kissed the inside of her thigh, his scruff scratching her. “I'll take care of you, lass.” He pressed a soft kiss to her bare mound; it felt like her skin was going to melt off her bones, the anticipation killing her. He licked and nuzzled, moving lower and lower, until he licked her slit with the flat of his tongue.

Her unique tang bloomed across his tongue; he couldn't hold back his moan of pleasure. She tasted divine. He spread her drenched folds and dived in, lapping at her greedily. Emma's back arched, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the bed. Somehow she found Killian's hand and latched onto it, lacing their fingers together as he tongued her higher and higher.

She was going to  _die._ Right there. In Killian's bed. A few of her previous lovers had tried this, but had never seemed very enthusiastic about it. Emma brushed it off; one night stands didn't matter. She had no idea what she was missing. Killian lapped at her like a man starved, humming against her flesh, plunging his tongue inside her hole, sucking at her clit. Over and over and over, bringing her so close to the edge before backing off. Every time he did this, she bucked her hips, trying to coax him back and finish her off.

“Killian, _please_ , please,” she sobbed, back arching off the bed. “I need you.”

Without preamble, he descended on her again, mouth working her, playing with her clit. She climaxed at last, screaming incoherently, eyes screwed shut. She sagged against the bed as she came down, Killian licking her clean and enjoying every second.

“Jesus Christ,” she panted, unable to open her eyes.

“Killian will do,” she heard him rumble. He moved back up her body, brushing her damp hair back from her face. “You are so beautiful, love.” Emma felt his cock brush her thigh; he was hard and hot and throbbing and somehow she felt desire flair in her stomach.

“Hey,” she said, opening her eyes. He was looking down at her, a mixture of affection and lust on his face. She put her hand on his chest. “I didn't say we were done.”

“Emma...”

She pushed him on his back. “Shhh,” she whispered, a finger to his lips. She wanted him with a power she'd never known before and she intended to see where they could go. “It's okay.” She kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue. More tendrils of desire pooled, her body's reaction surprising but not at all unwelcome. She gripped his cock firmly, stroking; she wanted to learn what he liked too.

“Emma, god...”

Her core clenched; he looked so wrecked, so consumed by his desire for her. It made her feel powerful, that she could bring him to such a state.

Killian rocked his hips into her hand, chasing her touch. “Love, I...oh fuck.” His head fell into the pillow. “Christ, so much better any dream.” Hadn't he imagined her like this? Naked in his bed, touching him? Needing him as much as he needed her? He hadn't allowed himself to believe such a thing could come to pass and now it  _was_ and he wanted to do whatever it took to keep her.

“You dreamed about me?” Emma asked, eyes flickering between his face and his cock. “Like this?”

He nodded frantically. “I knew I shouldn't but...but...I couldn't stop.” She twisted her hand around him and he groaned and bucked his hips off the mattress.

Emma shivered, remembering her own fantasies about him. “Me too.” She moved between his spread legs and bent to lick a stripe over the underside of his cock.

“Oh please, Emma,” he panted, needing to know how her mouth would feel. If it was as amazing as his dreams. She grinned wickedly before starting to work him, her mouth hot and wet, tongue licking at his engorged flesh. He tried so hard to stay still, but it was difficult. He settled for grabbing the headboard above his head, his knuckles white. He watched as she took him in, past those pretty pink lips, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked and swirled her tongue. _“Fuck!”_

Emma's free hand drifted down her stomach; her core ached to be filled, but she settled for brief flicks of her clit. She knew she was good at this, had several people tell her so, so she used every trick she knew to drive Killian crazy, listening to his moans and curses, wetness sliding between her thighs.

“Emma, love...you have to stop, please!” Killian cried, his whole body trembling.

She released him with a soft pop. “I was enjoying myself,” she pretended to complain, pouting for good measure.

“And you...were... _are_...brilliant,” he panted. God, he'd been a hairsbreadth from coming and he needed to be inside her slick heat. “But I want to feel you around me one last time.”

“Last time?” Did they not want the same thing?

He saw the horrified look on her face and quickly corrected himself. “For now, darling, for now. I don't think I could let you go now.”

Emma breathed.  _Thank god._ She couldn't imagine going back to the way things were now that she knew what it was like to be with him. They surely had some things to figure out, but she really wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to see what they could be. It was a big step for her, but she was so tired of second guessing every aspect of her life,  _searching_ for trouble. It was exhausting.

Emma reached into the nightstand; there was an entire  _box_ of condoms inside it. She'd teased him about it the previous night, now she was just thankful they were there. She teased and nibbled the skin around his tattoo as she rolled the condom on; Killian's breathing hitched. They didn't speak as she straddled his hips, rocking above him, coating him with her wetness. He watched her, those hands sliding up her thighs.

The studio wasn't as well lit as his bedroom was now; Killian could see everything as Emma rocked above him. He held his breath as she lifted up and took him into her body with a single slide of her hips. A strangled moan tore from his throat; she was just as slick and tight as he remembered. This wasn't a figment of his imagination. Emma was really there with him, riding him gracefully. She threw her head back, the hair tickling his thighs as her back bowed. God, he wished her could draw her like this, lost in her passion and desire. She was easily the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen.

“That's it,” he whispered. “Take what you need, love.”

Her hips came down harder; Killian started thrusting up to meet her, hard slaps of skin echoing in the room. Emma keened, pushing her hair back with her hand.  _“Yes!”_ She leaned down, hips still moving, hands sliding up his chest and arms. She pushed his hands above his head, taking them firmly in hers. “Feels so good,” she murmured, teasing his lips with her own. “Oh my god, Killian.  _So good.”_

“I know, love, I know.” It was more amazing than he could have ever dreamed and he never wanted to stop.

She kissed him hard, nipping sharply at his lip, hips rocking madly. Killian used the distraction to roll them over onto their sides, dragging Emma's leg up over his hip. He took her deeper, her cries of ecstasy spurring him on, their hands still clasped together. He felt her begin to flutter around him. “I'm gonna...oh god, Killian... _yes!”_

Killian grunted as she climaxed, pulling her even closer, hips snapping frantically into hers, chasing his release. It washed over him in a rush, hips going still, buried deep within her. Emma fell on to her back then coaxed him down to her, brushing a kiss to his damp forehead before letting him lay his head on her chest. He could hear her rapidly beating heart, listening as it gradually slowed. It was hard to tell which was louder, hers or his, but it was one of the best sounds he'd ever heard.

He needed to get off her before he hurt her, so with great effort, he rolled off. With a heavy sigh, he slipped off the condom and tossed into the bin next to his bed. Then he turned back to Emma.

“Some morning, huh?” she said, a lazy smile on her lips. She felt happy and sated, almost tired enough to go back to sleep.

He grinned at her. “Indeed, lass.” He scooted closer, running a his fingertips over her upper arm. “One of the best I've had in a very long time.”

“Hmm, this bed is really comfortable,” she observed, not quite sure how else to reply. Staying the night and sleeping with him again in the morning were things she hadn't done since Neal, but she didn't want to mention that asshole while they were in bed together.

“Are you always a light sleeper, Emma?”

“Who says I am?”

“As soon as I tried to go fetch another blanket, you trapped me here,” he replied easily, his blue eyes reflective and earnest.

“Maybe I just didn't want to lose my furnace,” she tried to joke.

“You said it was a habit, lass.”

Of course, he'd remember that. She shrugged. “I, uh, spent the first 14 years of my life in the foster system. I got used to it. Sorry about the blanket stealing.”

Killian shook his head. “Don't ever apologize for things that are not your fault, love. But I am sorry you went through that.” He wanted to hold her, but he guessed she didn't want his sympathy.

“My mom...well, adoptive mom, Ingrid, took me in, then adopted me. I'd pretty much lost hope of finding a family who wanted me.” She bit her lip. “But Ingrid's great. I just don't want to disappoint her.”

“I'm sure you couldn't. She chose you.” _Just like I seem to be doing._

Emma opened her mouth to say...something, but got cut off by her rumbling stomach. “Tell me you've got food here?”

Killian pretended to look affronted. “A bachelor I may be, but I'm not a heathen, lass. You go take a shower and I'll start us some breakfast. How does that sound?”

“You'd let me use your shower?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “I may be hoping you'd spend the day here.”

Emma smirked. “Sure you're not an ax murderer trying to keep me here against my will?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Emma...”

“Relax, I'm just kidding. I'd love to stay. And we should probably talk. About, you know, what happens next.”

“You're implying there is a next,” Killian pointed out.

“Like I said, I'm trying to live a little.”

“You'll have to explain that one to me, love. After. Go.”

“Don't you want to join me?”

Killian groaned. “Tempting, but no. That shower's not very big. And someone needs to start breakfast.” He also thought that a few moments to themselves wouldn't go amiss either. Reflect on the changes of the last couple of days.

“Suit yourself.” Emma captured his lips in a kiss; she was addicting to kissing him now. “See you in a bit.”

Killian watched her go all the while cursing his effort to be a gentleman and let her have a some time to herself. Once he heard the water running, he got out of bed and grabbed some clean clothes from his dresser, a pair of blue boxers and a gray t-shirt. After thinking for a moment he got out another pair and one of his dress shirts for Emma, laying them on the bed. Her clothes were still in his studio; he didn't want her to have to go get them.

Dressed, he headed for the kitchen to begin breakfast.

Emma stood under the hot spray, a tiny sigh escaping. Killian was right; his shower was tiny. There was a separate bathtub which looked very inviting, but she was starving. She found his body wash; she figured out where a bit of his scent came from the moment she opened it. It smelled good, just like him. She had to be careful not to get her hair wet; she didn't want to intrude on his hospitality that much, just yet. This thing was very new and Emma hadn't been in a relationship in quite some time.

However for all it's newness, it _felt_ right. She just hoped they were on the same page.

She finished washing and shut off the water. Stepping out, Emma found a fluffy green towel that resembled the robe he'd left for her the night before. She wrapped it around herself and padded into the bedroom. She was a bit disappointed Killian wasn't there, but then she smelled bacon. Her stomach growled again. Did he cook too?

She wondered briefly if she should go get her clothes, but then she noticed the pieces on the bed. A pair of boxers and a shirt. She couldn't help but smile at Killian's thoughtfulness. She dried off and pulled on the borrowed clothing, big for her, but she made it work, rolling up the sleeves of the shirt. The shirt smelled even more strongly of him, the scent putting her at ease like it always did.

She combed her fingers a few times through her hair to smooth it down then made her way to the kitchen. Killian stood with his back to her, also in boxers and a shirt, cooking bacon and something she couldn't identify.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Killian turned, smiling at the sound of her voice. “Hello, love.”

“What's good to eat?”

He arched a brow at her word choice, but didn't call her on it. She was surprised at how easy those flirtatious remarks came to her with him, how much fun it was to tease him. “Bacon and eggs,” he said. “I wasn't sure how you liked your eggs so I made scrambled, with a few added bits.”

“Scrambled's fine, but for future reference, I also like them sunny side up.”

“Are you anticipating needing my culinary skills again, Emma?”

She shrugged, cocking her head. “Hmm, maybe.” She looked around. “Do you need me to do anything? Coffee?”

“There's some in the cupboard, coffeemaker's over there,” he said, gesturing to one corner. Emma could see the black coffeemaker tucked away. It didn't appear to have been used very often. “No Starbucks quality, I'm afraid.”

“That's okay.” She found the grounds in the cupboard and went to start the coffee. It took her a moment to figure out where everything went, but most coffeemakers were pretty standard. After, she opened more cupboards, finding them mugs and plates for their food.

Killian tried not to enjoy her puttering around his kitchen. His shirt rode up whenever she had to reach high, flashing a bit of her skin. And she looked far better in his clothes than he ever did. But it was the domesticity of the scene that made his heart beat faster and his breathing short. Emma was still here, in his kitchen, and they were about to enjoy a meal together. His wildest imaginings had not conjured such a thing.

“Milk and sugar?” she asked, drawing him out of his trance.

“Milk's in the fridge, sugar's in that little bowl there.”

“Right.” She got the milk and sugar, sweetening the bitter brew to her taste. “You like yours black, right?”

“Aye.” He scooped the eggs into two separate plates and added some of the crispy bacon. When he was finished, she handed him a mug, their fingers brushing. “Thank you.”

“You did all the cooking; I just made coffee.” But she was smiling over the lip of her own cup.

“Ah, but coffee's a very important thing to start the day.”

“I think I know some better things,” she said teasingly.

“Which we also indulged in,” he pointed out. “And which I will gladly indulge in again...later.”

During their little flirtation they moved closer, until they were practically chest to chest. He stared into her luminous green eyes, a powerful rush of emotion gripping him. They leaned in at virtually the same moment, lips touching in a sweet kiss.

What on earth had she done to him?

“We should eat,” she said, trying to remind herself, as well as him.

“Aye.” They took their breakfast back to the island they sat at the night before, sitting on opposite sides and digging in.

“Oh, this is good!” Emma hummed around a mouthful of eggs. “Mine are always too runny.”

“Perhaps you don't cook them long enough,” he observed, munching on some bacon. He was relieved that she liked it. Emma's comfort in his home was probably a key going forward. And he had to admit he _liked_ having her there.

Emma rolled her eyes and threw a piece of green pepper at him. “I'm not a very good cook,” she admitted. “I can do a few things alright though.”

“Perhaps you can show me one day.”

She smiled shyly and went back to her food. They chatted about random things, like the dreadful parking situation on campus, movies they wanted to see, books they've read. It was very much like the conversations they had before his class in the morning, only now there was an intimacy that had been lacking before. It was exciting and sweet at the same time.

“I can clean up,” she said, when they finished. “I think it's your turn to shower.”

“Emma, you're my guest. I can...”

“Seriously? Go shower, then we can talk.” She glanced away. “Then maybe you should show me some more of your art?” she asked hopefully. She wanted to get to know him, really get to know him, and his art seemed like the best way. He was so passionate about it. She just wanted to soak it in. Soak him in.

“I would be honored.” He stood and briefly kissed her brow before disappearing to the bedroom.

Emma put their plates and things into the sink, rinsing everything before it putting into his dishwasher. She had to scrub the egg pan a bit but she got it clean. Killian was still in the shower so she wandered, hoping he wouldn't mind. But she was curious.

The living room didn't have much in the way of personal belongings in it. There was a Manchester United pennant on the wall. Soccer fan, check. He had a large flat screen to watch the soccer on presumably. There were a few DVDs under the TV, laying haphazardly alongside the cable box. In the back corner of the room was a small bookcase; she'd missed it the night before. Most of the books were art related but there was some fiction too. She had the impression he was well read, considering the way he spoke sometimes. The top of the bookcase had a single photograph on it.

It was Killian and a taller man with curly brown hair and the same blue eyes. They were smiling, wearing matching red shirts. Liam, she presumed. He was handsome, clearly some good genes in that family.

“Finding out all my secrets, lass?” Killian asked, making her jump.

“Is this your brother?”

“Aye, the stubborn git. I've got another of him and his wife somewhere as well.”

Killian exchanged his boxers for some flannel sleep pants; his hair was still a bit damp from the shower. Emma put the picture down, feeling a bit nervous, even though it was ridiculous. She wasn't good at the talking part.

“Let's sit, love.” Killian took her hand and guided her to the couch. They sat next to each other, fingers still entwined. They were silent for a long time, each wondering just how to broach the things they needed to discuss. Finally, Emma curled her legs under her and leaned on his shoulder. Killian sighed happily, wrapping his arm around her waist and hold her close.

“This is nice,” she said softly.

His lips brushed the crown of her head. “To be honest, I didn't think this could ever happen.”

“What?”

“You and me. If there is such a thing, of course.”

Emma raised her head. “Do you want there to be?”

“Very much. Having you here...” He sighed, gently tucking some hair behind her ear. “Well, you have a good idea what my dreams have been of late, lass.”

“So what do we do? Because I want this...us. I want to be with you.”

Killian had to fight the urge to kiss her senseless; he'd longed to her hear say something like that. To give him some sign that he was not the only one both in ecstasy and turmoil about what these feelings could mean for them. “Well, you still work for the department...”

“But you're not grading me,” Emma pointed out.

“No, which is a mercy. But it's still against the rules.”

“Do you care about that?”

“I care about _you_ , Emma. You took this position for your internship. I won't jeopardize that for you.”

Emma frowned. “But what about last night? And this morning?”

“You didn't let me finish. Everything we've done...it means something. _You_ mean something to me, Emma. I told you earlier that I didn't think I could let you go and I meant it. Ordering me away is up to you. But I sincerely hope you won't.”

He looked so worried and hopeful and determined...it melted the tiny knot of fear that had lodged in her chest. They _did_ want the same thing. They wanted to be together. “So what you're saying is we'll have to be discreet?”

“More or less. Only until the end of the semester, then you'll no longer work for me.”

“Elsa knows,” Emma informed him, idly stroking his chest. “She knows I kissed you. And I'm pretty sure she knows I didn't come home last night.”

Killian wasn't surprised by this information. He gathered the two women were very close. “I think we can trust her,” he replied slowly. “But the fewer people who know...”

“The fewer who can blab, I got it.” Emma didn't know how she would begin explaining this to her friends anyway. Or Ingrid. Oh god, Ingrid would either flip or congratulate her, depending on her mood. No, it was best to keep this between them for now. “Think we can do it?”

Killian smirked. “We can _do_ a great many things, Emma. I'm afraid you need to be more specific.”

Emma swatted his chest. “I meant in your classes. Can we act...you know, normal?”

“Love, I've not acted normal with you since the moment I met you.”

“What?”

Killian chuckled hollowly. “You're not the first nude model I've had.” Emma raised a brow and he backtracked. “Used for my class, darling, nothing more.” He cupped her cheek in his warm hand. “You sit up there and I can't take my eyes off you. It's been slow torture watching you, having to touch you and pretend it doesn't affect me.”

“All this time?”

His thumb stroked her cheek; the tender touch sent a shiver down her spine. “You didn't know?”

She leaned into him, licking her lips. “I'm not sure I wanted to know at first. It was affecting me too,” she admitted.

“We're a pair, aren't we?”

“A pretty good one so far?”

He grinned. “Aye, I think so. But perhaps...” He waggled his eyebrows. “We should practice some more, just to make sure.”

“You are the teacher,” she pointed out, climbing into his lap. She combed her fingers through his hair, drew them over his neck. He shivered and she lowered her lips to his thrumming pulse, licking and gently sucking. “I think you should definitely do some teaching.” She bit down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder as Killian's hands slid up the back of her shirt, eager to feel her skin again.

“And which lesson would the lass enjoy?” he mumbled, letting her set the pace.

“The one that involves you taking me back to bed,” she whispered in his ear, “and making me scream you name.”

Killian growled, any other plans forgotten. “Hold on to me, love.” Emma squealed, clinging to his neck as he picked her up; she wrapped her legs around his hips, kissing him deeply as they made their way _back_ to the bedroom.

 


	9. Chapter 9

She was going to be late.

It was all Killian's fault.

Okay, so he hadn't needed to twist her arm to oh so charmingly get her to stay _another_ night in his bed. If Emma was being honest with herself, she didn't want to leave their bubble. Those first twenty four hours of their budding relationship were heady and intoxicating and she'd never felt anything quite like it. Going back to class and after that, to work, seemed dreadfully dull and mundane. So she allowed herself to be persuaded. With his sweet words and toe curling kisses and dexterous artist's hands.

But that wasn't all that kept her. They did eventually find their way back into his studio, where he showed her more of his work. She even got to see a couple of his paintings. There was one she really liked, a depiction of the ocean at sunset. Emma had always loved the ocean, despite only seeing it herself a couple of times in her life. The colors he used really spoke to her; she could simply tell that he felt connected to the water too. She was tempted to ask if she could have it, but changed her mind. It was far too early for something like  _that._ Instead, she listened to him talk, reveling in his passion for his art. Now that she'd witnessed that same passion turned toward her...she wondered why she resisted the pull toward him.

Men like Killian Jones certainly weren't typical in her experience.

Of course, she was used to boys who took their laundry home for mommy to wash, and who thought romance was showing up on time to a date. Not that she dated per se. And she certainly hadn't wanted a romance. Killian was making her rethink a lot of things about herself.

She'd agreed to stay on the condition that she get up early to go home to shower and change for school (so she hadn't completely lost her wits), which Killian agreed to easily enough. But she hadn't been woken by an alarm clock.

Emma was woken by Killian's head between her thighs, her body begging for release on his talented tongue.

They made love one final time in the dim early morning light, then Emma forced herself to leave. She sped all the way home; it was early so traffic was still light. She managed to avoid Elsa as she showered and dressed, giving herself a once over to ensure she didn't bear any marks. Her inner thighs were a bit red still, but it was fading quickly. She grabbed her bag and drove back to campus. The traffic picked up, Emma's temper getting shorter and shorter. She didn't want to blow their cover on the first day! And Emma still had no idea how she was supposed to act around him now.

And now they wouldn't get to talk.

It had her all discombobulated and antsy. Maybe this was a giant mistake?

Her fears settled the moment she stepped into the room. It was only minutes before class was due to start, but Killian was sitting at his desk, looking serene. But Emma knew him now. She saw the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his eyes lit up when she came in. He smiled an almost imperceptible smile at her and it calmed her nerves. They exchanged greetings as she passed, sounding entirely normal to a stranger.

Killian let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Emma arrived. He knew it was horribly selfish to keep her in his bed earlier that morning, but they didn't know when they could see each other again. So he got greedy. Even now, he could still taste the sweetness of her kiss. He had to sit at his desk for a good five minutes to get himself under control; this was going to be a bit more difficult than he expected.

He called class to order as Emma stepped out from behind the screen. She was dressed only in his robe, her lovely hair piled neatly on top of her head. All it did was remind him of her in his studio, him reaching out to touch her, feeling the strands between his fingers...

Killian gave his head a tiny shake; he couldn't think about her naked and perfect, just for him. Because right now, she wasn't his. He'd explained to Emma about moving the class on to playing with light and shadow, now that they'd mastered many of the basics. There were a few gifted artists in this class, though most were passable. Killian's method of instructing Emma on the new lesson plan had been much more hands on, ultimately leaving them both dizzy and panting from pleasure.

That wasn't an option here. Clearly.

Killian cleared his throat, keeping his back to her. He explained what the next few classes would entail, pleasantly surprised at how steady his voice sounded. It gave him confidence; this thing with Emma was too important to screw up, especially with their very first test. He thought he sounded pretty normal actually.

Emma listened to him speak, trying to ignore the things that voice did to her. This wasn't much different from how things had been before, so she managed quite well. He had a sheet draped chair for her today and a couple of lights. She waited patiently for him to finish, then disrobed to take her place in the chair. Killian busied himself with moving the lights around, finding the most aesthetically pleasing angles. Emma worried her lip between her teeth, but gave no other side of being aware of him.

Task completed, Killian stepped off the platform and got out of the way so his class could work.

He started in the back, slowly moving around the room; Emma tried not to follow him with her eyes but it was so tempting. Instead of staring, she flitted her eyes back to him every few minutes, usually catching him looking at her. He even winked once, the bastard. It was so hard to keep her breathing even, but she mastered herself. She really did want this to work. And it was kinda fun to play this cat and mouse game with him; it helped pass the time at any rate.

Everything was fine until break.

Emma had somehow forgotten that he needed to mark her pose with the tape. He came up to her quite matter of factly, apparently all business. Emma chose to follow his lead until she distinctly felt his hand skim over the curve of her breast.

The jolt of arousal hit her hard but she suppressed it. “Killian?” she said in a faint whisper. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone noticed; the students were all engrossed in their own pursuits.

“Sorry, love. Couldn't help it,” he whispered back. “I'll stop.”

“I didn't say stop.”

His blue eyes clashed with her green ones; suddenly, they were back in his studio about to make love for the first time. A long beat passed before either looked away, Killian going back to his task. When he finished, he handed her the robe and she went to get a drink.

Killian went back to his desk berating himself again. He couldn't keep his hands to himself for five minutes! They would be found out in a bloody heartbeat if he couldn't control himself. He half considered going back to Emma under the guise of the lesson, to speak to her, to apologize for being an utter lout, but when he looked at her she was smiling. After checking that no one was watching them, she winked at him.

Maybe there was something to this whole forbidden romance business after all.

Still, Killian resolved to be more discreet in the future.

The rest of the class was calmer, for both of them. It was going to be a learning curve certainly, but Emma  _liked_ the teasing. She liked knowing she was the only person in the room who understood what Killian could do with those hands, who understood the emotion in his pretty blue eyes. Even in a room filled with people they could find a way to express the feelings that were burgeoning between them.

It was the most alive Emma had felt in far, far too long.

She had class right after, so she had to redress in a hurry to catch the campus loop. She smiled warmly at Killian as she passed, her eyes hopefully carrying the promise of speaking to him later. She did have to work at the diner that night, but she wanted to get a  _few_ minutes alone with him.

Her class was its typical slog, lecture followed by a reminder about the upcoming midterm. Only two of her 400 level classes even had midterms; most opted for term papers. She had a head start on those, but she would need some library time soon. It was going to be difficult balancing school, two jobs  _and_ a clandestine relationship. But she was determined. One of the jobs included Killian, so even when they couldn't see each other, they were still seeing each other! Killian knew how important school was to her.

Ingrid told her to start living and damn it, Emma was gonna try.

She arrived early for the afternoon class; Killian was already there, waiting for her. “Hello, Emma.”

“Hey.” She unloaded her bag on the desk, leaning casually against the edge.

“How was your class?”

“Boring. Midterm's coming up though.”

“Studying, I imagine?”

Emma stifled a grin. It was so odd speaking to him like this, like they didn't know each other intimately. Odd but exciting at the same time. She glanced over her shoulder, to check that they were still alone. “Yeah. Sometimes I get this crick in my neck though. From hunching over books.”

Killian stepped a bit closer. “Perhaps you should see someone about that,” he purred softly.

“I've been thinking about it. Know anyone good, Professor?”

He cocked his head, considering her. “Possibly. Where does it hurt?”

Emma saw his fingers flex; he wanted to touch her. She wanted to let him, but they couldn't. Emma leaned her head to the left. “Right along here?” she said, running her fingers over the back of her neck where it met the shoulder.

Killian sucked in a breath, unable to tear his yes away from her skin. Tendrils of hair had fallen from her neat bun; he wanted to bury his face there and inhale her scent. She massaged the place with those delicate fingers, looking at him with hooded eyes. It was a special kind of torture to not be able to press kisses there, listen to her moan for him. “Aye, I believe I know someone who could help with that.”

Emma smiled brightly. “Fantastic. Tomorrow night, okay? To...make an appointment?”

Killian blinked several times, stunned. Had she just...? Had Emma just asked him to...? He grinned back.  _ Clever girl. _ “That sounds perfect. I'll let him know,” he said, nodding at her to let her know they were no longer alone. “Seven o'clock?”

“Perfect.” Emma grabbed her bag, pleased with herself. That wasn't so hard. They could find their way around this secrecy thing.

The afternoon class went much smoother than the morning one had. Killian could take a seat in the back, get out his sketchbook (he was going to have to get a  _ third  _ one; if he and Emma weren't together now, he'd be worried) and drink her in. She caught his eye a few times as they shared a private look; he had to fight not to smile. Just being around her made him so damn  _ happy _ , even if he had to pretend it didn't.

When it was time to pack up, Killian deliberately hung around, waiting for the room to empty. He usually did this so he could lock up, so he didn't draw any unwanted attention. A couple of students asked questions; he answered them with what he hoped was his usual patience. Emma was still behind the screen, presumably changing. This was another moment he prayed they were on the same wavelength.

Finally, the room was empty. Killian placed his sketchbook in his bag and closed the clasp. It sounded loud in the large room. Then Emma stepped out from behind the screen.

It was their first day and they'd probably already taken too many risks, but Emma didn't think she'd make it until tomorrow without one kiss. Their earlier banter had just reinforced her strong desire to kiss him; now they were alone. Just one kiss. It couldn't hurt...

“There you are, love,” Killian said, watching her come toward him.

“So how do you think we did?”

“On what?”

Emma rolled her eyes, fingers reaching out to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat. “On being  _ discreet _ .”

“Passable, I suppose.”

Emma glanced around, just to be sure, then stepped into his space. “More practice?”

“Aye, definitely more practice.” Gently, he brought his lips to hers, relishing her sigh. Mercifully, she'd taken her hair down; his fingers threaded into the golden tresses as he pulled her closer. She clung to his vest, lips parting, granting him entrance. He kissed her as long as he dared, heart racing as he pulled away.

Emma licked her lips. “I wanted to do that all day.”

Killian chuckled, bringing his hand down to his side. “Indeed. Bit more difficult than I anticipated.”

“Worth it though?”

“Most definitely.”

Emma smiled, a bit sad. “I gotta go to work.”

“After this morning, I shan't keep you, Emma.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Aye.”

They left, heading in different directions. Killian knew exactly how to spend his evening. He had the beginnings of a project floating around the back of his mind. He could speak to Emma about it on the morrow.

* * *

“Morning, Emma.”

Emma nodded, stepping into the kitchen. “Hey, Elsa.”

“Late night?”

“Not too bad, you?”

“Watched some TV, went to bed.” Elsa took a delicate sip of her coffee. “Good weekend?”

Emma felt the blush creep up her cheeks. _Damn it._ “Yeah.” She got coffee of her own and opened the freezer, hoping they still had some Eggos. They didn't. Elsa was doing a very bad job of concealing her grin when Emma closed the door. “Elsa, never go into espionage. You suck at it.”

“Oh come on, Emma!” Elsa cried. “Just a little hint? Are you guys dating now?”

Emma sighed, settling for some toast. Killian had made her eggs. “Okay, but first...you are the only person who knows. You can't tell anyone...not even Anna. We talked and decided that we need to be discreet until after the semester's over.”

Elsa suddenly became very serious, nodding solemnly. “You have my word, Emma. Not a peep.”

“So what do you wanna to know?”

“Well, all I know is you went over there. So whatever you feel comfortable with?”

This was why she loved Elsa. She didn't push Emma to overshare. “His place is small. Two stories, but nice. Definitely a bachelor pad.” Elsa laughed. “We had wine, talked. I thought it might be weird, you know? But we just...I don't know, click. God, that's so lame.”

Elsa popped some more bread in the toaster. “It's not lame, Emma. Mary Margaret says that about David all the time.”

Emma groaned. “How many times have I made fun of her for it?”

“She'll get you back...later,” Elsa added hastily. “Because I am going to be keeping my mouth shut about all this.”

“Right.”

“And? Then what?” Emma shifted uncomfortably on the stool. Emma wasn't used to deconstructing her one night stands, and Killian was far more than that. Elsa saw her and smiled. “Was he good to you?”

Emma sighed in relief. “Yeah. The whole weekend was pretty spectacular.”

“That's wonderful! I'm really happy for you, Emma.”

“He, uh, did a sketch. Of me.”

“Oh! Really? Was it like Jack and Rose in _Titanic_?” Elsa was very fond of that movie.

Emma's cheeks were red again. “Better.”

Elsa smirked. “Well, obviously. Killian's hotter than Jack.”

“Elsa!”

“What? I told you, I've got  _ eyes.  _ But he's all yours. So long as he's good to you, he's got nothing to fear from me.”

Emma chuckled, thinking of tiny delicate Elsa giving Killian a piece of her mind. Or worse. “Thanks, Elsa.”

They ate in companionable silence, then cleared up the dishes. Emma still had some time before she needed to get to campus, but not much. This time she was taking a bag to Killian's, just in case.

* * *

Killian carried the heavy bags into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He wanted to get dinner started before Emma arrived. Something that cooked slow in case they got...distracted. They talked briefly the night before, reaffirming their plans for this evening, at least that was Killian's excuse to call. He merely wanted to hear her voice.

God, he was so far down the rabbit hole already.

A romantic sap, his brother would call him. Like Liam was one to talk. But the little Killian knew about Emma's past...he suspected romance and being treated well wasn't something she was accustomed to. Which was crime in and of itself, something Killian would strive to correct, as much as he was able at the moment.

Methodically, he put away the groceries, everything except what he needed for dinner. It was one of his mother's old recipes; the kitchen began to smell like the sweet spices. At six o'clock he put the tray in the oven and went to shower and change. When he got out his phone was ringing. For a terrible second the thought it was Emma calling to cancel, but it was only Liam. _Christ, it was after midnight in London._

“Liam?”

“This time difference sucks, little brother.”

“Why do you keep calling in the middle of the night then?”

“Because...nevermind.”  _ He doesn't know, _ Killian thought. “How are things there?”

“Um, cold? My classes are fine, if that's what you're asking.”

“You know it's not.” His words were a little slurred.

“Liam, are you drunk?”

“Why would I be drunk?”

“I dunno, brother. Maybe because it's hitting you that you're gonna be a bloody father?” Liam had helped raise him after their own father took off. But an infant...Killian was surprised this hadn't happened before now.

“Molly's parents are practically planning the whole bloody thing,” Liam drunkenly complained. “I'm irrelevant.”

“Liam, you are not irrelevant. You're gonna be the best dad, look at me!”

“Killian, you ran away to America!”

“But I'm happy,” Killian countered. He was struggling to shrug into his favorite shirt and talk to his brother at the same time. “I'm doing what I love. I've got a...” He bit off his words, because he couldn't tell Liam about Emma. Not yet and especially not while his brother was drunk. He had a feeling Liam wouldn't take it well.

“You've got a what?”

“A...home,” Killian finished lamely. “I've fixed it up a little since you were here last. You should come visit sometime.” It was a hollow invitation; he doubted Liam would come while Molly was pregnant. Liam was too overprotective for that. After that, if things went well...Killian would be proud to introduce Emma to his brother.

“Still coming for Christmas?”

“Liam, I told you. I'm busy.”

“You're always busy.”

Killian heard the doorbell. “I'm sorry, Liam. I've got to go. Delivery.” They hung up and Killian tried to frantically do up his buttons before reaching the door. “Emma?”

She smiled wanly. “Am I interrupting?”

He chuckled, stepping back to let her in. “No. My brother was on the phone.”

“Is he okay?”

Killian ran his hand through his still damp hair. “Aye, just soaking in some of the realities of impending fatherhood.” He saw what she was carrying. “You brought a bag?”

Emma bit her lip, shrugging. “It's not homework. It's clothes.”

“Ohhh. Were you planning on staying somewhere, Miss Swan?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Maybe. Depends on the service.”

“Service?”

“My neck rub?”

He laughed. “Yes! Neck rub. I do believe, if you allow me to take your bag, we can get you set up for that.” Emma handed him her bag, but he crowded her, pressing her against the wall. “But first...” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her parted lips, just a brush. Emma chased his lips as he pulled back, cupping his cheeks and kissing him more firmly. Her bag fell to the floor as they wound around one another, still kissing, soft moans and sighs echoing in the entry hall. It was so much more than their kiss in the classroom, as they didn't have to hide here; they could give in completely without fear of being discovered.

“That's better,” Emma sighed softly, her nose brushing his cheek.

“Miss me, love?”

She bit her lip to hide her smirk. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Minx.” His lips touched the corner of hers then he stepped back and picked up her bag. “Let me drop this in the bedroom, then we'll get you that neck rub.”

“Killian, I was only kidding...”

“No, I want to. Dinner won't be ready for a while in any case.”

Emma watched him go, then wandered into the living room. The house smelled amazing; she didn't know what he was cooking, but it certainly smelled good. She hadn't expected him to actually give her massage, but she wasn't going to turn down an excuse for him to touch her. Not when they had so few chances. She didn't want to admit how much knowing she would see him got her through her day; Granny had called with an emergency, needing Emma to work a couple extra shifts this week. Then she got assigned a six page essay. She'd break the news to Killian later; she wanted to enjoy their evening after the stress of the day.

“Emma?” Killian was back, carrying a pillow and a blanket.

“What are those for?”

“Come here, lass.” She walked over to him, standing next to one of the armchairs. He took one oh her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “Still trust me?”

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He kissed her briefly and straightened. “The floor's a bit hard, so I brought the pillow for you to kneel on.”

“You want me to kneel on the floor?” Seemed like an odd place for a neck rub.

He grinned. “Indulge me?” His blue eyes sparkled with affection, latent desire. Emma began to catch on.

“I think I can do that.” She watched as he spread the blanket and the pillow, right at the foot of the chair. Emma slipped off her shoes and socks, wishing now she'd worn a skirt. But they would manage. She pulled her hair up into a loose bun, giving him access to her neck. When he had everything situated, she knelt, facing the chair.

Killian shucked his shoes and socks as well, rolling up his sleeves. He knelt directly behind her, his fingers itching to touch. He dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. “Just relax, Emma.” His fingers brushed the warm skin of her slender neck, where he wanted to touch her the day before. She shuddered, leaning toward him.

Slowly, he began to knead the delicate flesh; he was surprised at how tense she was. “Bad day, darling?”

“Can I tell you later? That feels good.”

“I could give you a real massage, if you like.”

“And more?”

Killian smiled. “Anything you wish.”

Emma started plucking at the buttons of her blouse, shrugging it off as he continued to touch her. She could feel her desire for him simmering under the surface of her skin, warring with the tension. But with him, she didn't need to choose. Killian's thumbs pressed circles at the base of her neck and she moaned. “Oh yes.”

Killian growled under his breath, her eagerness for his touch making him hard instantly. “Emma.”

“Hmmm?”

He inched closer, rolling his hips into hers. “I've hardly touched you,” he whispered in her ear. “And this is what you do to me, love.”

Emma rocked her hips back. “Hands first, then you can have me,” she whimpered. “Feels amazing, Killian.”

“As you wish.” He stopped only long enough to slip the straps of her bra off her shoulders, kneading the skin. Emma groaned approvingly, leaning her head forward. Killian worked out the knots, feeling her skin warm under his touch. Slowly, he moved down her back, unhooking and removing the bra. He couldn't resist sliding his hands over her breasts, pinching the hard nipples. Emma hissed, back arching. “You're so responsive.”

“It...oh god...feels so good,” she breathed. She never had a lover like him; she wanted him to explore her body, find what made her feel good.

“I know, love.” He kissed her neck. “Do you feel that? When we touch?” It was a spark, almost like a live wire passing between them. It was addicting.

“Yes. God, don't stop.”

Killian obeyed, moving back to her spine, working out more knots, tension loosening and another kind taking its place. Their hips rocked together, still clothed, Emma bending lower over the chair. Her hair was beginning to tumble from its coil, her breathing was short. There was a deep ache between her legs, but she didn't want him to stop touching her.

Killian kissed a path along her spine, stopping at the waistband of her jeans. “May I?”

“Please.” Killian reached around and flicked open her pants, hand sliding under her panties. Emma straightened up and turned her head, seeking his lips as his fingers found her clit. “Oh yes, there,” she gasped before kissing him hard.

She was soaked, his fingers slipping briefly with her slickness. Emma broke their kiss with a gasp, her body already beginning to quiver and quake. “Killian!” she cried. _“Fuck_...so close.”

“Let go, lass. Just let go for me.” He stroked her clit, his other hand sliding up to pinch and roll her nipple, urging her to fall apart for him. Emma came with a little scream, hips bucking into his hand. Killian eased her down, pressing more kisses to her flushed skin. Emma panted, slumping over the chair. Despite her high, she still ached, her body tingling. She wanted _him_.

“You are so bloody gorgeous when you come,” Killian mumbled against her back. “Love watching you fall apart.”

“Killian...”

“Yes?”

“I...I need you...inside me.”

“Bloody hell.” He was still fully clothed, even though his pants felt like they were going to burst. He eased back hurriedly, removing his shirt. Emma was already pushing her jeans over her hips, panties and all, kicking them off. She threw a sultry look over her shoulder, watching him struggle with his pants.

“Need a hand with that?”

“Well, if you're offering...be my guest.”

Emma turned, now kneeling in front of him. She nuzzled at him; Killian felt his knees buckle. She was such a sensual creature, undeniably sexy but still carrying an air of innocence. Like she truly didn't know how striking she was, or just how much he was under her spell. He watched as she unbuttoned his fly and lowered the zipper, pushing the denim off his hips. Killian kicked the offending material away, waiting for her next move.

Emma's tongue poked through her teeth as she considered him. He was lean but strong; she wanted to take a bite out of him. But they had time later. She was definitely staying the night again. She ran her hands over his thighs before reaching for the elastic of his boxers and pulling them down and off his body. The sight of his nude form made her mouth water.

“Christ, Emma,” Killian muttered. Before she could retort, he was kneeling with her on the floor, cupping her face and kissing her deeply. Emma sighed into it, giddy at the feel of his skin on hers. Her arms wrapped around him, getting closer and closer until their chests were flush.

“Now what were you saying about needing me?” he asked cheekily, nipping at her earlobe.

Emma groaned, her ache more pronounced than ever. “Floor or chair?” she asked, sucking on his collar. It was okay to leave marks on _him._

“Don't care,” he muttered. His blood was on fire, feeling her marking his skin, branding him as hers. He fumbled for his pants, eventually retrieving the condom. He pressed it into her hands, allowing her to sheath him so he could go back to touching her. He palmed her breasts, thumb flicking the nipples. Emma hissed, more heat pooling in her stomach.

“God, _hurry_ ,” she gasped, core clenching.

Killian nodded, one hand sweeping under her thighs, laying her on her back in one smooth motion. He settled in the cradle of her thighs, cock nudging her entrance. “Ready?”

Rather than answer him, Emma dragged his mouth to hers kissing him hungrily as he slid home. They both groaned, Emma stretching to accommodate him. God, he felt so good inside her, filling her perfectly. “Move, _please,”_ she begged, her ankles digging in his ass.

Killian did, sliding out, then back, biting his lip. She was so tight around him; he would never get over this feeling. “So bloody good.” Emma nodded frantically, hands sliding over his back, feeling the muscles flex as he drove into her. Over and over. Over and over, slow and steady until Emma was seeing stars, the pressure coiling ever tighter. She began to claw at his back, her blunt nails leaving red marks in her wake. Killian hissed, his thrusts getting erratic.

“ _Please,”_ Emma panted. “I need...fuck, I need to...”

Killian pressed his forehead to hers.  _“Emma..._ together,” he bit out. “Need to feel you with me, love.”

She nodded, too far gone to speak. She slid her hand between them, catching a glimpse of his cock sliding in and out of her, their hips rocking together. She flicked her clit as they kissed, connected in every way as the dam burst, the waves of their mutual orgasm overtaking them. It stole her breath, but she didn't stop kissing him, trying to memorize the way this felt.

Finally, they had to break for air, Killian momentarily sagging against her. Emma didn't mind his weight; it was comforting in a way she'd never expected. But he did roll off, collapsing onto his back.

“Feel better?” he joked, fingers reaching absently for hers.

“Yeah actually,” she replied, turning to look at him. He looked almost boyish; it made her smile. She rolled onto her side, facing him. “You?”

“We didn't make it to the bedroom,” he said sheepishly.

“I didn't expect us to, not after the way you kissed me in the hall.”

“That obvious?”

She frowned, smoothing her hand over his chest. “I didn't mean that like it was a bad thing.”

Killian covered her hand with his. “Sorry, love. Bit out of practice. And being with you...I just don't want to muck it up.”

“I don't either. My last relationship ended with my boyfriend nearly getting me expelled.”

“ _What?!”_

Emma sighed. “It's a long story. Suffice it to say I didn't have the greatest taste in boys then.”

He raised a brow at her. “And now?”

She grinned. “I think my taste in  _men_ has significantly improved.” She kissed his bare chest. “We just have to take it one step at a time, okay? But you don't have to walk on eggshells with me. I like  _you_ , Killian. A lot.”

“And I you, Emma.”

She smirked. “At least we didn't break anything?”

“Not much in here to get broken, lass. My studio on the other hand...”

“We did pretty well,” Emma said, blushing a little. That first time would always be special; she was very fond of that room.

“I plan on having you there many more times, love,” Killian replied with a grin, rolling up on his side. Emma could feel his breath on her lips.

“Oh really? Planning on working me hard then?”

Killian rested his hand on her hip. “Work is a relative term. But I might ask you to pose again, if that's alright?”

“Just so long as these stay between us, you can draw me whenever you want,” Emma said softly, brushing a kiss to his lips. “I like watching you work.”

“You have my word, Emma. Only us.” He sealed his promise with a kiss. He hadn't planned on springing his question on her like that, but her trust was everything to him. Especially after having his own broken so badly in the past. He would never betray her.

“Do you think dinner is ready?”

“Probably. I had a feeling something like this might happen. Planned accordingly.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?”

“No, I just know how I feel when you walk into a room, Emma.”

Emma couldn't speak, her throat suddenly tight. If it was anything like the way she felt when he walked into a room...it should scare her out of her mind. And it did, a little. But she did trust him. She fell just a little bit more every moment they were together. She made the right decision, choosing this. Choosing him.

“You okay, love?” He looked worried, like he'd said the wrong thing.

“I'm just fine,” she replied, smiling. “Hungry?”

“Aye.”

They got dressed, leaving the blanket and pillow to get later. Emma helped him serve their meal, fetching plates and glasses and silverwear. He had another bottle of wine, which she uncorked. Meal served (it still smelled heavenly), they toasted their new beginning, each silently praying they could hang onto it.


	10. Chapter 10

“Thank you so much, Emma,” Ruby said, tying on her apron. “I owe you big time.”

Emma shrugged. God, she was tired. But she had the thought of Killian to sustain her. They'd only seen each other in class since Tuesday night; a couple of stolen kisses were all they could manage since Emma took the extra shifts for Granny when Ruby came down with a stomach bug. Between that and her school work, Emma was exhausted. But Granny granted her an unprecedented second Sunday off in a row as a thank you for helping out in a pinch.

Emma knew exactly how she wanted to spend that Sunday. In the arms of her secret boyfriend.

“Wasn't a problem,” she said. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, loads. It really wiped me out for a couple of days; I wouldn't get too close.”

Emma made a show of backing away, mustering a soft chuckle. “Duly noted.”

“If you want to take off, I won't tell Granny,” Ruby continued, changing out a coffee filter. “You deserve an extra hour.”

Emma looked at the clock; she planned on going straight to Killian's after work. She didn't think he'd mind if she was early. The diner wasn't overly busy, about average for a Saturday night. “That would be great, Ruby, thanks.”

“Don't work too hard!” Ruby called as she headed back to her locker. Emma rolled her eyes. If she had her way, she wouldn't be working at all. But Ruby didn't need to know that.

She changed out of her uniform and into a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie. She was too tired for anything more elaborate. All she wanted was to curl up in Killian's arms and take a nap. After food because she was starving. Emma rearranged some things in her bag, then shrugged on her coat. She didn't dial Killian until she was halfway to her car.

“Hello, love,” he said, his voice like a balm on her tired soul.

“Hey. Doing anything interesting?”

“Possibly,” he said cryptically.

“Oh, do I get to see?”

“Possibly.” He paused. “You sound tired, lass.”

“I am, a little.” Her feet ached, her shoulders were a bit stiff. She remembered Killian's massage and nearly groaned at the memory of how good it felt. Maybe he'd give her another one?

“Still want to come over? We can wait...”

“No, I've got tomorrow off, special gift from Granny. I want to come over, Killian.”

“Be safe driving then, lass. And I'll see you soon.”

“Okay. Bye.” She found her car in the garage and fired it up. It was pretty cold out in late October, so it took a good ten minutes for the old Bug to warm up. She slipped on some gloves and put the car into gear, taking the now familiar streets to Killian's house. He lived on the opposite side of town from anyone she knew, so it was unlikely that anyone would recognize her or her Bug.

Killian couldn't stop the smile when he heard the doorbell. He'd missed her over the last few days. Stolen kisses, while intense, were not nearly enough. He knew he would need to exercise patience, but he hadn't expected to need it so soon. He hurried to open it, his smile turning into a slight frown when he saw her.

“Oh Emma.” She smiled wanly and stepped inside. She looked exhausted. There was some darkness under her eyes and it seemed like a bit of her light had dimmed. Killian pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing the door and pulling her close.

“Before you can even ask, I feel better already,” Emma mumbled into his shoulder.

Killian stroked her hair. “You didn't have to come.”

“I wanted to. I missed you.” She raised her head, kissing his lips. “But I wouldn't say no to a quiet evening on the couch?”

He grinned at her. “I like the sound of that, love.” He kissed her brow again and took her bag. “You go have a seat; I'll put this away. Beer is in the fridge. Pizza?”

Her eyes lit up. “Deluxe?”

“Excellent choice.”

Emma shrugged off her coat and followed him, turning off to go to the kitchen. She got a bottle out of the fridge; of course, he'd gotten her favorite. She found the opener in one of the drawers, popping the lid off. She took a sip; it burned a little going down, but she didn't mind. She headed for the living room, slipping off her shoes and settling onto the couch. It felt so good to just _sit_.

“Long day?” Killian asked gently. He sat next to her, pulling her into his side.

“Long week.”

“Hmmm. Pizza should be here in a bit. Can you stay awake?”

“You could always distract me,” Emma teased.

“As much as I would love that, I want you with me, lass.”

“What are we watching?”

“I was watching a replay of the match, but we can watch something else.”

“A replay? Didn't you watch it live?”

“Aye, with my brother screaming over the ruddy laptop. Very early this morning.” Killian laughed. Sometimes the time difference meant he was watching his beloved Red Devils at the veritable crack of dawn.

“Are you close? You and your brother?” Emma looked up at him, curious. She didn't have any siblings.

Killian looked thoughtful. “Not as much as we were. The distance and such.” He didn't mention his frustration with Liam's over protectiveness and his own secret about Milah. Part of him wanted to tell her, but the other part wanted to leave Milah in the past. He didn't want her memory to poison what he had with Emma. “He and his wife are expecting.”

“Yeah, you mentioned something about impending fatherhood.”

Killian smiled. “Loves being in charge, Liam. Very headstrong. But so are his in laws. Kinda sad I'll be missing all the fun.”

“Do you regret leaving England?”

Killian looked down at her, surprised. “No. I've grown rather fond of this place. And if I were there, I wouldn't be here with you.”

Emma burrowed deeper into his shoulder. She needed to stay awake, for a little bit longer. But Killian was so warm and comfortable; it was a struggle. “Your place doesn't look very lived in though.”

He laughed, his fingers rubbing her upper arm absently. “I'm a man of simple tastes, lass. To be frank, I spend most of my time in my studio.”

“I would have never guessed that,” Emma deadpanned, smiling up at him mischievously.

“It's certainly become a much _livelier_ place in the last week,” he replied. “Visitors, you know.”

“More than one?” She knew he was teasing, but her body hummed in response. Even dead tired, she was drawn to him.

Killian toyed with some of her hair. “Just the one. But she's been on my mind for quite some time.”

Emma swallowed, her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beat. “Who is she?”

“Blonde, feisty. Gorgeous green eyes, beautiful lass.” He punctuated each description with a brush of his lips to her skin, chin, jaw, cheekbones. “What do you think I should do about her?”

They were leaning somewhat precariously, Emma's shoulder pressing awkwardly into the back of the couch. She shifted her seat, curling her hand behind his neck, pulling him with her as she fell back to the couch cushions. “You could start by kissing her.”

Killian let out a little strangled moan; he knew she was exhausted, but he couldn't resist when she looked at him like  _that._ He covered her mouth with his, kissing her slowly, thoroughly. Emma shifted under him, spreading her legs so he could press her deeper into the cushions. They groaned softly, Emma's fingers in his hair, flexing and bunching his shirt. Killian cupped her cheek, deepening the kiss. She sucked on his tongue, her heart racing. Just kissing him was enough to make her blood run hot; she didn't want to stop.

“Killian,” she gasped when the came up for air. Killian skimmed kisses down her throat, a hand snaking up her hoodie.

“Shh, love.”

Emma wrapped her legs around his hips. “Killian, please.” She was getting wetter by the moment, especially when he realized she wasn't wearing a bra under her hoodie, his groan rumbling through her.

“Christ, Emma.” He'd tried so hard not to want her; his hips ground into hers, his denim clad cock sliding over her heat.

“Hurry,” she panted. Their dinner would be there _soon_ , but it had been so long...cursing, Killian rose up, forcing her legs apart.

“Leggings, right now.” Emma hastened to obey him, shimmying out of the tight material faster than he thought possible. Killian paused long enough to get the condom out of his back pocket (he decided to keep one there whenever Emma was around, just in case) before wrenching his jeans down to his knees. He caught sight of her glistening slit, her fingers sliding over the sensitive skin. Was she trying to kill him? Killian rolled the condom on quickly, then batted her hand away. “That's mine,” he snarled.

“Prove it,” she shot back, her green eyes nearly black.

Killian shoved a pillow under her hips, then pushed into her roughly. Emma cried out, dragging him down by his shirt and kissing him hard. It was frantic and needy, each knowing they didn't have long. Killian found her clit with his thumb and Emma shuddered. She wasn't tired anymore; all she could feel was the hot wet slide of him as he pounded her into the couch. Emma brought her legs over his shoulders, pleading...harder, faster. The angle changed and she screamed, coil threatening to burst any second.

“Yes!” It hit her abruptly, walls clenching around him, her vision popping with stars. Killian's strangled moan followed almost instantly, his hips still as he came.

Emma's legs fell down on either side of his hips; Killian's head rested on her heaving chest. She was far too hot in the hoodie but she didn't complain. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, as they slowly came down from their high.

“Am I hurting you?”

“I'm good.”

“That was...”

“Good?”

“I was going to say unexpected,” Killian said in a low voice. He kissed her chin. “But aye, very good, love.”

“We should move. Pizza'll be here soon.”

“Don't want to get caught without your knickers, lass?”

“Do you want me to get caught without my...knickers?” Her tongue rolled around the unfamiliar word.

Killian huffed. “Certainly not.” He leaned up and stole one last kiss before standing up. He yanked his pants up enough to get to the kitchen to clean up, while Emma pulled her leggings back on. They were just in time too, as the doorbell rang. Killian went to answer it; Emma hurried upstairs to swap her hoodie for a camisole, tying her hair up for good measure.

She immediately felt better.

“Hmm, that smells good,” she said, reentering the kitchen.

“Eat here or in front of the telly?”

Emma giggled. She was still getting used to some of his colloquialisms. “Do we have to watch soccer?”

“We can watch whatever you wish,” he said, placing a couple of slices on plates. “And it's football.”

“Football, soccer, same thing.”

He pretended to look offended, but it didn't take. “Off with you. Go and find something to watch.”

Emma grinned and snatched her plate, taking it back into the living room. She found his remote easily enough, switching off the DVR'd game and turning on the live TV. Killian had a lot more channels than she did, which made her a little jealous. “Oh!  _Winter Soldier_ is on!” She stopped immediately, sitting cross legged on the couch, plate in her lap and happily munched on her pizza. It was delicious.

“What'd you find, love?” Killian glanced at the TV. “One of those ruddy comic book movies?”

“What's wrong with that?”

He shrugged. “Didn't peg you for the type, that's all.”

“There's a lot of things you don't know about me yet,” she informed him, patting the seat next to her. “And this isn't any old comic book movie. It's _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

Emma tried not to roll her eyes. Superheroes were her guilty pleasure; had been since she was a kid. One of her early foster homes had an entire room filled with comics, there to keep the kids entertained. She was too young to read many of the words, but she liked the colorful pictures. Her consumption of comics waxed and waned depending on where she was, but the interest hung with her. It was part of the reason she chose criminal justice as her major. Be a superhero in the real world. But she'd never told anyone that, not even Ingrid.

“Well, you really should see _First Avenger_ first, but we can make it work,” Emma said. She launched into a brief explanation as Cap ran by Sam Wilson over and over. Killian listened to her speak, noting the hint of passion in her voice. This was something that was important to her, even if he didn't precisely understand why. So he paid attention, soaking in every word, putting together another piece of the puzzle that was Emma Swan.

After their pizza, Emma curled back into his side, eyes on the screen. Occasionally, he asked her a question, trying to sort out what was going on. To his surprise, he was enjoying the film immensely; it a had depth he hadn't expected. He even got a bit choked up at one point, watching the fight between the hero and his long lost friend. Fortunately, Emma didn't see. She was too busy wiping away her own tears.

By the end, Emma's energy was flagging; she stifled a yawn. Halfway through the credits, she was out completely, her head on his shoulder. She'd warned him to stay until the end, so he waited, shifting her gently so she was more comfortable. After the final scene (a bit anti climatic, to be honest), Killian switched off the television and moved to pick Emma up. She stirred a bit as he carried her bridal style up the stairs, but all she did was bury her head into his shoulder.

He laid her down on his bed, yanking back the covers. “Easy there, lass,” he murmured softly, as he coaxed her under them. “You go back to sleep.”

“You coming?”

“In a few minutes. I'm going to clean up downstairs.”

“Okay,” she replied sleepily. She felt like she could sleep for days, she was so tired. But she craved his warmth.

“Be back soon.” He kissed her temple and hurried from the room, running back downstairs to clean up their mess. Once everything was put away, he returned and stripped down to his boxers. He shivered in the late night chill but waited until he'd gotten the spare blanket from the trunk. Emma usually stole the rest during the night, so he knew to be prepared now. He laid it at the foot of the bed before climbing in after her. Emma rolled over and snuggled in beside him, a contented sigh escaping.

“Sweet dreams, my love,” he whispered.

* * *

Emma woke up in a warm cocoon. Blankets were tangled between her legs; there was a solid wall of something against her back. It took her a minute to realize she wasn't in her own bed, but Killian's.  _He_ was pressed against her back, an arm thrown over her waist. She thought about going back to sleep, but it was fully light out; it peaked through the dark curtains. She yawned, her jaw cracking. Emma lay back but didn't sleep, just basking in Killian's warmth.

She had a vague recollection of him carrying her to bed, picking her up like she weighed nothing. Emma knew he was strong, but she never pictured him carrying her anywhere. It was nice. It was romantic. She wasn't used to romantic. But she liked it. A lot.

Eventually, nature called and she had to figure out how to disentangle herself without waking him. Killian stirred only slightly when she slipped from the bed. Emma padded to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

She felt much better than she had when she arrived the night before. She hadn't had a  _full_ night's sleep since Tuesday, staying up late to work on her homework after finishing at Granny's. Strictly speaking she didn't  _have_ to, but she wanted to spend the entire day with Killian without feeling guilty. She was going to have enough of that when Ingrid visited this week. She was taking Ingrid's advice, but Ingrid couldn't even know about it. Oh the irony.

Emma emerged from the bathroom, intent on returning to the fluffy bed. But a sunbeam caught her eye through a gap in the curtains. It fell on a book; Emma recognized it as Killian's sketchbook. Or one of them. She noticed he had more than one.

She plucked it from the dresser before she knew what she was doing, then felt guilty. What if he didn't want her to see? Sure, he'd been more than pleased to share his work with her before, but this was his private sketchbook. It felt a lot more like spying and she didn't want to spy on him. It could imply that she didn't trust him, when that was far from accurate.

While she agonized a loose page fell out. Emma stooped to pick it up. When she turned it over, she was stunned at what she saw. It was her. But it wasn't a pose she had ever done in one of his classes.

She was nude, of course. But this was a very erotic image; it actually made her blush. Erotic but tasteful at the same time; it didn't make her feel dirty at all. Her back was arched and her head thrown back, lips parted in a silent cry. When had he done this?

Emma slipped the page back inside, unable to quell her curiosity now. Nearly all the sketches were of her; she recognized some of them from class. Some were unfinished, just rough outlines, rubbed and scribbled out. She got a bit of charcoal on her fingers as she perused the pages, fascinated.

Killian woke, his hand sweeping the empty space where Emma had been. It was cold. “Emma?”

“Over here.”

Killian sat up, blinking. Emma was standing by his dresser, his sketchbook in her hand. Oh god, he hoped she wasn't offended by anything in there. Or worse, creeped out. “Love?”

“Why didn't you say anything?” she asked. But her question was gentle, not accusatory.

“About which part? That for weeks the only way I could sleep was doing little sketches of you? Or immortalizing you as a goddess?”

“What?”

Killian sighed, running his hands through his hair. It stuck up at all angles but he didn't care. “Bloody hell, lass. I was going to show those to you. Much later. I swear it. I just...this is so new, Emma. For both of us. I'm terrified of doing something to push you away.”

Emma put the sketchbook down, coming to sit beside him on the bed. “I didn't mean to snoop.” She covered his hand with hers. “But I love them.”

“You...do?” The first time Milah had seen his sketches, she blew her top. Little did he know it was all a part of her charade.

“You're very talented, Killian. You should be doing more than just teaching.”

“But I enjoy teaching.”

“I know and you're good at that too. But these sketches...”

“I had an incredible muse,” he said, thumbing the dent in her chin. “That's all you, Emma. What I see when I look at you.”

Emma blushed. “Just think about it, okay? I mean, the ones of  _me_ ...you know...”

“I can get rid of them.”

“No! No, don't do that!” She didn't want to see his hard work go up in smoke. “May I have them?”

“Aye.”

“And you don't have to stop,” she added. “I told you you could sketch me whenever you wanted.”

“Emma, are you _sure_? That's a pretty big carte blanche you're giving me.”

She scooted closer, threading their fingers together. “I think...we're a lot a like. We know what it's like to get our hearts broken.”

Other than that one time, Killian had never mentioned Milah to her. He didn't want to now, but Emma was right. They did understand each other, that pain. Enough to never want to go through it again. He gathered her against his chest. If he had any doubts before, then they were gone now. He was in love with her, this brave young woman who believed he was worthy of her.

“Having them broken means they still work, darling,” he murmured softly. “A fact I am profoundly grateful for at the moment.”

She smiled against his chest. “Me too.”

It was later than Emma thought; they slept until nearly eleven o'clock. Killian made them brunch, even though she declared she didn't mind eating leftover pizza.

“So what was the secret project?” Emma asked, taking a bit of her quiche.

“Project?”

“When I called last night. I asked if you were doing anything interesting and it sounded like you made plans for us.”

Killian shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. “Nothing that can't wait. We can watch more telly, if you want.”

“What was it?”

“It's probably better to show you. But truly, Emma, I am content to simply spend time with you. We've had precious little.”

Emma licked her lips. “We might not have a lot this week either. My mom's coming to visit.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Your mother?”

Emma chuckled at the slightly panicked look in his eyes. “She doesn't know about us, calm down.” She reached over for his hand. “My birthday is on Thursday; Ingrid's the first person I ever had to celebrate it with. After I went off to school, she decided to bring our celebration on the road.”

Killian stroked the back of her knuckles with his thumb. “I'm glad you have that, love. But I will miss you.”

“We'll see each other some,” Emma reminded him. “And she leaves Friday morning.”

“So are you saying we should make the best of today, lass?”

“I think I am. And I'll make all this up to you later.”

“There's nothing to make up,” Killian assured her. “We knew our time would be limited for the foreseeable future.”

“Don't mean I have to like it.” They went back to their food, demolishing the spread. Killian was quite a decent cook, much better than she was. She was good at grilled cheese and that was about the extent of it. It was a very domestic scene as they ate and cleaned up; Killian was surprised at how quickly Emma seemed to slip into the flow of his life, almost like she had always been there.

“May I see it now?” she asked.

He eyed her clothes. “Perhaps we should change first. Could get messy.”

She arched a brow at him. “Messy?”

“Very hands on,” he continued cryptically. He stepped into her space and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Would you be up for that, love?”

Emma ran her hands over his biceps. “I think you'll see that I'm up for almost anything.” She grinned and stood up on her toes to kiss him. Her fingers carded through his hair as they made out in the kitchen, Emma resisting the urge to climb up his body and have her way with him.

He pulled away with a gasp, his cheeks flushed. “Let's get changed before I change my mind and take you back to bed.”

“Not seeing a problem with that.”

He groaned. “Don't tempt me, lass. Later, I promise.” He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. Rather than mess up any of her clothes, Killian gave her another set of his. He had to hide his grin as she painstakingly rolled up the sleeves so she could work. Once they were changed, they headed back down to his studio.

“Killian, what... _oh_.” Emma's eyes widened as she caught sight of the worn potter's wheel, sitting in the middle of the space. “Is this yours?”

He nodded. “It is now. Got it second hand, but it works. I thought we could try our hands at something.”

Emma walked around it, almost afraid to touch it. It was old but appeared sturdy enough. The bench wasn't quite big enough for two, but...she shook her head. “I'm not artistic, Killian.”

He came up behind her, hand running down her arms and lacing their fingers together. “Perhaps you are and just don't know it yet.” He kissed her cheek. “I would be right there with you, love. Just like this.” He slowly raised their joined hands, his bigger ones manipulating her fingers.

The feel of his warm body pressed against her back sent a shiver down her spine. “You like it because it's intimate.”

He chuckled. “Well, that is one perk, I'll not lie. But there is a rush at creating something with your hands, whether it's a sketch or a painting or sculpture. I can show you want that feels like, Emma. If you want.”

“You'd share that with me?”

The catch in her voice made his heart break. “I'd share everything with you.” Christ, he was such a fool, blurting things out like that. But he also wouldn't deny her the truth. And the simple truth was he loved her.

Emma blinked back tears, touched at his words. The depth of her feelings for him scared her, but she knew she'd regret it if she ran from them, from him. Wasn't Ingrid always warning her about living her life with regrets? She trusted Ingrid; she trusted Killian. She just had to trust herself. “Show me?”

Killian hugged her tightly from behind. “As you wish.”

Emma watched, slightly bemused, as Killian gathered all the supplies. He really had planned this for a while; he had things Emma would have never thought of. He grinned as he pressed a smallish piece of clay into her hand. “Ever watch Elsa?” he asked.

“Nope. What do I do?”

“Well, first we need to get the air bubbles out.” He led her to his work table, showing her how to knead and squish the heavy clay. It was fun, throwing it down on the table, passing it between them, teasing each other. When the clay was ready, Emma quickly washed her hands and pulled her hair back. She didn't want it to get in the way. Killian dried the wheel and got an extra stool, so he could sit more comfortably behind her. When she returned, he had their little ball of clay sitting in the middle.

“Have a seat,” he said, grinning. Emma smiled tentatively and did so, breathing easier when he slid in behind her. “No need to be nervous, darling. I'll be right here the whole time.”

“Who says I'm nervous?”

“You're shaking.” He peppered her exposed skin with kisses until she calmed down. “I haven't done this in quite a while, so we'll go slowly, okay?”

Emma exhaled. “Okay. What are we making?”

“We'll stick with something simple. Perhaps a vase?”

“You're the artist.”

“This time it's both of us, lass. You'll see.” Gently, he took her hands and showed her how to mold the clay to make it ready for spinning. She had a deft touch, as Killian was already aware. She managed to play his body like an instrument every time she touched him. He whispered encouraging words in her ear, pleased when she relaxed.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, I am.”

“Now this next bit can be tricky, so just watch me, yeah?”

“Okay.” She was closest to the pedal so she started the wheel spinning as he wet the clay and started to manipulate it. She didn't ask what he was doing; she could feel his concentration in the feel of him against her back.

“Alright, wet your hands, lass. Then we can get started.”

Emma dipped her hands in the small bucket, remembering not to shake them off. Killian did the same before guiding her hands back. Together, they worked the clay, Emma keeping the wheel spinning at a steady pace. She wondered when they'd get to the hard part, but Killian seemed content to take his time, soaking their hands as needed.

“Don't take your eyes off it,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Emma shivered, warmth pooling in her belly. “We're just getting started.”

“It still looks like a blob,” she said softly.

“It won't soon. Patience, Emma.”

“Haven't you noticed how _impatient_ I can be?” she teased quietly.

“A trait I am very fond of,” he reminded her. His low voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her back. “As it led to a very interesting encounter on my couch.”

Emma exhaled, trying not to squirm. “You started it.”

“You begged me to kiss you.” To remind her, he placed a lingering kiss on her neck. “Which is never a hardship.”

“I missed you,” she replied, her voice breathy. While they talked, Killian had created a hole in the spinning clay; it now looked vaguely like a cylinder. “I missed us.”

Killian scooted closer; she was firmly between his legs now. “I missed us too, darling.” Gently, he took her hands, wet them again and together they began to mold the cylinder into a more artful shape. It was difficult for her to focus, his warmth soaking into her skin, his breath on her neck. Occasionally he kissed her exposed neck, murmured sweet nothings into her ear.

“Killian...”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you...paying attention?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I have the most delightful view down your shirt,” he admitted. “I may be imaging touching you instead of this clay.”

“Tell me.” Her arousal was given; it was impossible to watch those strong sure hands move over the soft clay and not want him. She wanted him to touch her, craved him touching her.

“Bloody hell.” He bit down on her neck where it met the shoulder, a groan spilling from his lips. “I want you everywhere,” he whispered. Like he was spilling some deep dark secret. “In my bed, in this studio, my office desk. So many places, so many different ways. I love watching you move, Emma.” He nudged her leg; she almost let the wheel stop spinning. “I dreamt about you so much; it was driving me mad.”

Emma whimpered, trying to keep her eyes on the spinning wheel. “More.”

“It's never been like this,” he continued. “Never felt like this. Do you feel it, Emma? When I touch you, when I'm in you? Please, love. Tell me.”

She nodded, not sure she could articulate the things he made her feel. “I feel it,” she bit out. “God.” She rocked her hips; he was hard against her lower back. “Need you, Killian.”

“Stop the wheel, lass.” Emma stepped off the pedal, already turning her head to kiss him deeply. She knew now why they needed old clothes, as he picked her up bodily and spun her around to face him, settling her in his lap. Emma attacked his lips, wantonly rolling her hips. The entire thing had been very erotic and she was very turned on. Killian's hands palmed and squeezed her ass as she rocked in his lap

“Fuck, you're so hot,” he mumbled, thrusting his hips up. “On fire for me, Emma.”

“Yes, yes,” she said, gripping his shirt with dirty hands. She wanted to feel his skin, feel it burning alongside hers.

“Bedroom?”

As much as she wanted to ride him right where they were, the condoms were in the bedroom. “Hurry,” she agreed. He stood up, Emma clinging to him, arms and legs tight around his neck and waist. She peppered whatever skin she could reach with kisses, unwilling to stop touching him. He threw her down on his bed with a bounce, crawling in after her. Their clothes were filthy, most of the wet clay transferred there as they pawed at each other.

Killian made quick work of her shirt, his mouth closing on an aching nipple. Emma keened, dragging his hands to her pants. “Clothes. Off,” she panted.

“So impatient,” he growled softly. “Tell me what you need.”

“I just did!”

“Aside from that.”

“Ugh! Just fuck me, Killian!”

“We're not leaving this bed until I've had my fill of you,” he warned. His hand slipped under the elastic, fingers rubbing the soaked fabric of her panties. He teased her, licking the curve of her breast, kissing the valley between them. “Is that what you want?”

“Please!” She didn't care, she just needed him to touch her before she combusted from the heat. Killian extricated his hand and yanked her borrowed pants off, then her panties. Before she could do the same for him, he spread her legs and ducked his head between them, tongue lapping at her core. “Shit!”

It was good Killian was only wearing some old sweats because he was hard as a rock, listening to her pleas for him to just fuck her. He wanted to, desperately. Controlling his body's reaction to her was supremely difficult, maintaining enough control to make it good for her his goal. He kept her spread, her sweet pink cunt dripping with her arousal. He licked her slit, over and over again, sucked her clit into his mouth. Emma's hands fisted in his hair, pulling hard, trying to keep him stationary.

“Killian...fuck...don't stop,” she panted, hips rocking. He held her down with his free hand, plunging his tongue inside her hole. Emma screamed, trying vainly to buck her hips. But Killian was stronger, holding her firmly, tonguing her until she saw stars. She panted, sagging into the mattress, shivering with aftershocks from her orgasm.

Killian kissed the inside of her thighs, her trembling stomach, mumbling nonsense into her skin. He crawled up alongside her, shimmying out of his sweats, stripping off his shirt, leaving him completely nude. Emma moaned softly as he stroked her damp skin and eased her onto her side. He kissed down her spine, hand massaging her breast. Emma's back arched, more wetness settling between her thighs. She was burning up, needing to feel him moving inside her.

“Killian...oh my god...”

“Soon, lass, very soon.” He sat up long enough to snag a condom from the drawer, then came back. His cock ached, the flesh red and throbbing, desperate for friction. He pulled Emma back against his chest, cock cradled against her ass. He thrust experimentally, making them both groan. “Jesus.”

Emma reached behind her, hand sliding over his bare hip. “Please...oh god.”

He was already rolling the condom on, unable to wait any longer. He had to feel her. He lifted her right leg up, cock nudging her slick entrance. Emma moaned his name as he slid inside, her body welcoming him. They were content just to rock, easing into a slow rhythm, a contrast to their earlier frantic need. Emma turned her head, lips finding his in an awkward sloppy kiss.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured in her ear.

“God yes.” Emma circled her hips as he thrust into her; the angle was threatening to burn her up from the inside out. “Harder, Killian, please.”

“Like this?” He pulled nearly all the way out then snapped his hips hard into hers.

“Yes! Yes!” This was an entirely new experience for her, having a lover that wanted to know what she liked. It was a discovery process for her as well, learning new things that she liked. He set a new rhythm, hitting her deeply, making her cry out. Emma fumbled blindly for his hand, dragging it to her clit, urging him to rub her.

“Come on, love. Let me feel you. Feels so good when you come around me.” He was perilously close to his own orgasm; she was too hot, too tight, too wrecked and needy for him hold out much longer.

Emma buried her face in the mattress as she screamed, the stimulation too much. Her body was suffused in bliss, trembling hard. Killian gave in, murmuring her name over and over as he went rigid, spilling himself deep within her.

Emma could feel Killian's heart pounding against her back; he made no effort to move, aside from lowering her leg. They lay there quietly, listening to the sound of their ragged breathing, hands still entwined. At length, Killian kissed the back of her neck and got up to head to the bathroom. When he returned, Emma was curled up on what was becoming her side of the bed. Her eyes were closed.

“Emma?”

“I'm awake. You joining me?”

His smiled flickered as he climbed in next to her. He pulled the light sheet up to their waists; Emma scooted closer. His girl was a cuddler, it seemed.

“Still with me?”

“Yeah. Don't you need to do something with that...whatever we made?”

“In a bit,” he replied, stroking her hair. He had a feeling Emma would probably doze off for a little bit; he could take care of things then.

“Did it turn out okay?”

“Were you not paying attention?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Why do you think I asked if you were?”

“So I see. Did you enjoy yourself?”

She stretched, yawning. “Yep. And the pottery thing was fun too.”

“Minx.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, love.”

“How'd you get the scar on your cheek?”

His brow knitted in confusion. “You want to know about my scar?”

“Isn't that something couples do, ask embarrassing personal questions?”

“So we're a couple now?”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

Killian shook his head. “Just trying to get my bearings, lass.” He looked thoughtful. “It's a silly story. I was little, about three or so? I used to watch my father shave every morning and I...may have decided to try it for myself. Cut myself with a straight razor. At least, this is the story Liam tells me about how I got it.”

Emma traced the mark with her thumb. “What about your dad?”

Killian sighed. “Left when I was seven or eight. It was just Mum, me and Liam after that. Mum died when I was in high school.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Liam looked after me until I was old enough to look after myself. I went to art school and didn't look back. Mum would have liked that, I think.”

“It's good that you have your brother though.”

“Aye, Liam's great when he's not being an overprotective overbearing arse.”

Emma laughed. “You want to ask me something?”

“Is that how this works?” Emma rolled her eyes, smacking him lightly on the arm. “Oi! Okay. Uh...” There were a million things he wanted to know about her, but he settled for something simple. “What's your favorite place?”

“Favorite place?”

“Aye, like a place you go to think, clear your head.”

“I...don't know if I have a place like that.” She frowned. “But I do love the ocean. I've only been there a couple of times though.”

Killian grinned. “I must admit to being fond of the ocean as well, love.”

“I thought so.”

“You did?”

“I love that ocean painting you did. I saw it and thought it could only have been done by someone who got the appeal.”

“I guess that's something more we have in common.”

“It sucks that it's too cold to go now.”

Killian kissed her brow. “Perhaps in the spring, lass.” They wouldn't have to hide then; they could be a couple, a real one. For now, they would enjoy this.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Hi, Mom,” Emma said, hugging Ingrid tight.

“It's so good to see you, Emma,” Ingrid replied, smiling into her daughter's hair. “I've missed you.”

“Me too.” She picked up her mother's carry on bag and started to lead them out of the tiny airport terminal. “The Bug's right out here; you must be tired.”

“It's not that long of a flight, Emma,” Ingrid scolded. “But it is nice to breathe fresh air.”

They loaded her mother's bags into front of her Bug; Ingrid was only staying through Friday morning. She didn't like leaving her ice cream shop in the hands of her assistant for more than three or four days at a time.

“Elsa and I cleaned; she should have the fold out couch all ready for you. I've got class until five,” Emma reminded Ingrid.

“How are your classes this semester?”

Emma buckled her seat belt and started the car. “Okay so far. I've got a couple of big papers coming up, but I'm spending a lot of time in the library.” What Emma didn't say was that she was splitting her time between the library and Killian's house.

Ingrid frowned. “Anything else? Any parties or...dates?”

Emma carefully kept her face impassive. “I went with Elsa to one of the art department parties.” There, that was the truth. “It was...fun.”

“Just fun?”

“Yeah. Free food, some really nice art. Made a couple of friends.”

Ingrid beamed. “That's wonderful, Emma!”

Emma made a point of changing the topic to how things were back at home; that kept Ingrid going until they returned to the apartment. She was running a little late, so she dropped her mom off then headed back to campus for class. She found it difficult to concentrate, even though she passed the first hurdle of Ingrid's visit.

After her morning class, she got a sandwich at the HUB, scarfing it down quickly before heading for the library. She was halfway there when her phone buzzed. Emma fished it out of her pocket. It was a text from Killian. _Your mother arrive okay?_

Emma smiled to herself. It was sweet of him to check. Rather than text him, she paused in the library lobby and dialed his number. “Emma?”

“Hey.”

“I didn't expect you to call, love.”

“I had a minute.” _And I wanted to hear your voice._ “Mom arrived in one piece; she's at my place, hopefully resting.”

“Hopefully?”

“Ingrid likes to do things, be active. She's used to spending all day at her ice cream shop.”

“You didn't say anything about your mum owning an ice cream shop, lass,” Killian mocked scolded.

“Oh yeah? What's your brother do then?”

“Structural engineer,” Killian said promptly. “All you had to do was ask.”

Emma laughed. “I guess we haven't had much time to talk,” she teased.

“Oh, we've had time, love. We've just employed it in other pursuits.”

Emma flushed, even though he couldn't see her. She enjoyed those other pursuits. Quite a lot. And they were  _good_ at them. “Speaking of other pursuits, how's my vase?”

“It's your vase now, is it?”

“You know what I meant.”

Killian chuckled. “It's nearly dry enough for glazing. Would you like to do that or do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” she said. “I'll leave that to the real artist.”

Killian huffed. “Don't ever sell yourself short like that, darling. This piece wouldn't exist without you.”

The passion and vehemence in his voice surprised her. But she promised him. They hung up not long after, as Emma went to find her favorite study carol.

* * *

Killian finished his lunch, then grabbed his gym bag. On the days he didn't have class and knew he wouldn't see Emma, he'd taken to working out for a couple of hours. He needed a release of pent up energy; his art wasn't quite enough now that he and Emma had taken their relationship to the next level. During the nights Emma didn't spend with him, he found he slept better if he had a nice tiring workout in the afternoon first. And judging by the way Emma tended to ogle him, she appreciated it too on some level.

After lunch the gym wasn't busy, most everyone back at work or in class. This suited Killian just fine; he really didn't want to draw unwanted attention. In the past, the female attention he got was just background noise, a nuisance. He wasn't looking for a relationship, having come out of such a broken one. He was polite but firm whenever someone mustered the nerve to ask him out, content with his healing heart and art.

Now all he wanted was Emma.

Based on what happened at the party, Killian could deduce that the attention he got—even though he did nothing to encourage it—made Emma jealous and uncomfortable. Privately, he did get a little thrill out that. It was definitely a stroke to his ego and he  _was_ still a man, after all. But he never wanted Emma to doubt that she was enough for him. He didn't want anything else.

Instead, as he did his repetitions and logged time in the gym's pool, he imagined all the things they could do together once they no longer had to hide. Their relationship was new, yes, but Killian was bursting to do couple things, like take her out for dinner. Catch a movie and neck in the theater. Introduce her to his brother and sister in law. Meet her friends, perhaps even her mother.

Premature? Perhaps. But Killian couldn't help but want it. He wasn't accustomed to doing things halfway; he jumped in with both feet. He suspected Emma was the same way. Making a decision, agonizing. Once made, they were committed. Fighting his attraction to her had been so difficult. But he'd have continued to do so if she hadn't felt the same way about him. He was simply thankful that she did.

After his workout, he took a shower, dosing himself in the warm water. He tried not to think about Emma, spending time with her mother. It had only been a little over twenty four hours since he'd seen her, but he missed her. And he wouldn't be seeing her until the next day. Perhaps they could steal a moment after the morning class.

Killian checked the drying vase again when he returned home. The clay was setting up nicely. The piece had a bit of an unusual shape, a bit...wobbly at the top, but he liked it that way. By the end, he'd been thoroughly distracted and horny, so it was little wonder that his hands were unsteady. Let it stand as a testament to how much they needed each other.

He already had ideas about other ways to do that via art. Emma seemed to have no qualms about getting a little...dirty.

“Ugh, get a grip, Jones,” he scolded himself. “She's not here.”

Shaking his head to clear the daydream, he got the broom and started to sweep the floor of his studio. Emma was spending quite a bit of time in his home, the least he could do was keep it clean. He cleaned other rooms, stripped his sheets (even though Emma's scent lingered), wiped down the kitchen. After that, he took a break, gulping down some water and flopping on his couch.

He glanced at the clock; it was three in the afternoon. Eight in England. On a whim, he called his brother. “Killian?”

“Hello, Liam.”

“What did you do?”

“Do? Why would I have done something?”

“You almost never call, brother. I have to call you.”

“I call.”

“You're _busy_ , remember?”

Killian sighed. “Nothing's wrong. I just...felt like calling. But if it's an inconvenience...”

“Don't you dare hang up, Killian Jones,” a new voice said. “I've got a bone to pick with you.”

Killian groaned inwardly. This wouldn't be good. “Hello, Molly! How's the wee one?”

“Me and the baby are fine,” the usually kindly voice snapped. “Liam says you're not coming for Christmas.”

“I never actually said 'no' definitively, Molly. Ask Liam.”

“No, you just gave me the usual song and dance about being 'busy,'” Liam griped.

“I am busy,” Killian reiterated.

“With what? The semester will be over by then, I checked,” Liam argued.

“You do realize I live alone?”

“So what? Do you have a pet that needs feeding or something?”

“No...” Back when Liam originally asked him, Killian had no desire to go. England wasn't home any longer. He felt a bit guiltier after finding out Molly was pregnant, but still couldn't make himself go. Now that he had Emma...it was even more complicated. He wanted her to meet them, but it would be the holidays. She would surely want to spend that time with her family. Besides, how would Liam feel being introduced to someone that—to his knowledge—Killian would only very recently started dating? It was enough to give him a headache. “Look, I'll do my best, yeah? It's just too early to tell.”

“Well, you better decide soon,” Molly warned. “Flights will be outrageous.”

“They already are,” Killian pointed out.

“I just want to see my favorite brother in law,” Molly replied.

“I'm your only brother in law,” Killian said dryly.

“All the more reason for you to come. You can bring your lady friend.”

Killian's eyes shot wide with alarm. Then he calmed. “Liam float you that cock and bull story too, lass? You should know better.”

“Despite what you think, you deserve to be loved,” Molly said simply. She was the person who had come closest to divining _why_ he left England so abruptly. She was a kind, sympathetic soul, his brother's wife. Liam was very lucky.

_I am,_ he thought. Or he hoped he was. Hoped that Emma could feel  _that_ way about him one day. Sometimes he caught her looking at him when she thought he couldn't see and he thought... _maybe_ he could see it in her eyes. He knew her feelings—whatever they were—were very strong. She liked being close to him, had no qualms about showing her affection when they were alone. But part of him couldn't help but wonder if she'd feel the same way if they didn't have to hide. Was it just the thrill of the forbidden that she wanted? He was in so deep now...not being with her would crush him.

“If you say so, Molly,” he said. “It's late, I'll let you guys go.”

“Hold on a minute,” Liam said. He switched the phone off speaker. “How are you, Killian? Really?”

“I told you. I'm fine. Happy. You?”

“Well, Molly's dad is still in one piece, so that's good.”

“You know they're only trying to help, brother.”

Liam sighed. “I know. But sometimes...” He paused. “Dad left, Killian. You were young, you don't remember.”

“I remember enough. Liam, you're _not_ Dad. You'd go to hell and back for that child. You did for me.”

Liam let out a dry laugh. “Thanks, brother. I needed that.”

“Molly's parents will figure that out soon enough. Just be patient, okay? No more late night benders if the old man annoys you.”

“Already done. But I appreciate the reminder.”

Killian laughed. “It's what I'm here for. Good night, Liam.”

“Night, Killian.”

As good as it was to talk to his family, the call left him more unsettled than anything. There was only one other thing that could clear Killian's head. He marched back to his studio and started to draw.

* * *

Emma left the apartment forty five minutes early on Wednesday morning. She'd spent the evening with Ingrid and Elsa; she had to admit the girl time was fun. But she missed Killian fiercely. It surprised her. She thought about calling him when they got home, but it had been very late. He was probably already asleep. She just resolved to get to campus early, so they could at least  _talk_ before class.

The door was unlocked when she arrived. No one was there yet, so she plopped herself down in Killian's seat. She busied herself with transcribing some of her notes, waiting for him.

“Well, if it isn't my favorite lass,” Killian drawled when he came in.

Emma's head snapped up, a smile already on her lips. “Hey you.”

Killian hurried to the desk, casting a furtive look to make sure they were still alone. Then he brushed a kiss to her lips. Emma hummed happily. “Good morning, love.”

“Morning to you too.” She chanced holding his hand as he leaned on the edge of the desk beside her. Their joined hands were out of sight. “Good day?”

“Better now. How are things with your mum?”

“Ingrid is...Ingrid. First thing she did when she got here was ask if I was seeing anyone.”

Killian stroked her hand with his thumb. “Liam is still convinced I've got a 'lady friend',” he informed her.

She sighed. “I know we can't tell them, but this is exhausting.”

He squeezed harder. Those words comforted him. “I know, lass. But it won't be for much longer.”

“Speaking of which, I was wondering...” Emma dropped his hand like a hot potato and started to rummage in her bag. Killian was startled, but soon heard people approaching as well. He stood and busied himself with preparing the day's lesson.

He set up the chaise for her; they were continuing their study of light and shadow. Killian found it best that he avoid looking at her until after the lesson began; he was less likely to be _as_ affected. He would always be affected by her on some level; he wasn't that naive. He and Emma had a connection, had from the moment they met. The trick now was not letting other people see it.

So he typically waited a good five minutes before turning around and facing her, ostensibly so he could observe his students' work. Instruct where necessary. He spent a good half of his time staring at Emma, memorizing some aspect of her that he wanted to capture on paper later. Sometimes he caught her eye and grin at the flush that rose on her cheeks. It was faint, but it was always there. Their shared intimacy was potent, even from across the room.

Emma was glad they were falling into a rhythm for his classes. She still felt that pull, but she was getting better at controlling it around other people. She was still ticked off that she hadn't gotten to ask her question before. It was something Elsa had mentioned the night before at dinner; she immediately grasped it as an opportunity for them to be out and about without getting caught. There was a large Halloween party on campus every year; Emma had only attended once, in her freshman year. She'd gone with Neal. This party was sponsored by the Greek houses, so it was very popular. And attendees typically wore  _masks._

Killian was young enough to pass for a student, especially behind a mask. It was perfect.

He called for break halfway through class. “Was there something you wanted to ask?” He whispered as he marked her place. She shivered as his hands lightly stroked her skin.

“Later,” she whispered back. “You have plans after class?”

“No.” His eyes lit up. “My office?”

Emma's eyes snapped to his; she saw the fire there. “Yes.”

The second half of class wasn't quite so calm; Emma remembered quite well Killian's desire to have her in his office. She caught herself fidgeting under his intense gaze; several students glared at her. Emma blushed and stopped, trying to warn Killian with her eyes. He smiled at her, the bastard, and went on his way, bending over a student's work, giving her a rather nice view of his ass.

Emma remembered at the last second not to roll her eyes (even though she appreciated the view).

As soon as Killian ordered them to pack up, Emma dashed for the screen to get dressed. She grabbed her bag and climbed down, waiting for the last of the stragglers to leave. She stood by Killian's desk, pretending like she needed to ask him a question. The final girl left and Killian stomped around the desk, almost swooping down her and kissing her once quickly.

“Killian!” Emma hissed.

“Sorry, love. I needed that.”

Emma softened. “I know how you feel.”

He slug his satchel over his shoulder. “Ready?”

Emma started to nod but there was a knock on the door. They both looked at the same time and Emma's jaw dropped. “Mom?”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt,” Ingrid said. “I was hoping we might have lunch together?”

It took every ounce of control Emma had not to panic. There was no evidence Ingrid had seen anything untoward. “Yeah, sure. We were just finishing up.” She stepped between her mother and Killian. “Mom, this is Professor Killian Jones. I've been modeling for his class this semester. Professor Jones, this is my mom, Ingrid Frost.”

Killian didn't miss a beat. He held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Frost. Emma's told me about you.”

Ingrid smiled, shaking Killian's hand. “Good things, I hope?”

“Aye.”

“Funny, I haven't heard a word about _you_. You teach art?”

“Aye. Came here from England several years ago. Emma's one of the finest models I've had the pleasure to work with.”

“That's wonderful to hear. Emma's always been a hard worker. My beautiful girl,” Ingrid said fondly. “Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Professor.”

Emma looked at Killian; she could see the disappointment in his eyes. She felt it too. But it was too much of a close call for them to linger. They said their goodbyes and Emma led Ingrid out toward the HUB.

“Mom, how did you know where I was?”

“Elsa told me. Why didn't you say say anything about modeling?”

Emma shrugged. “It's not a big deal. Just earning some extra money for that internship. It's only a few hours a week, fits around my schedule.”

“Well, I'm very proud of you, Emma. Finding a way all on your own. And that professor's certainly cute!”

Emma's eyes widened. “Mom?”

“I only meant that you could have gotten stuck with pudgy balding man, Emma. Calm down.”

Emma was wary all through lunch. But it really did seem like Ingrid hadn't seen anything. Emma's lie detector didn't ping or twitch or anything. Not that she actually  _asked_ “did you see my boyfriend kiss me” but she'd picked up enough in her classes to skirt the issue without tipping Ingrid off.

It wasn't that she didn't want Ingrid to know. She did. Ingrid was a mixture mother/big sister. Before Elsa, Ingrid was the person Emma was closest to. But given their current status and Emma's history with Neal, she thought it best until they weren't actually breaking any rules before informing her mother. It was only a few more weeks, she reminded herself.

Later, when Emma was safely in her room and the door locked, she finally called Killian. “Hey.”

“How is everything, love?”

“I think we're still good.”

“Truly?”

“I don't think she saw us. If she did, she would have asked me. But she does think you're cute.”

Killian's jaw moved but no sound came out. “Uh, come again?”

“My mother,” Emma said slowly, “thinks you are cute.”

Killian let out a breath. “I'm hoping I should be flattered by this?”

Emma laughed. “Yeah. Definitely flattered.”

“I'm sorry for endangering us like that, Emma,” he said more seriously.

“It's okay. We're still figuring things out. We've only been doing this for a week and a half.”

“Feels longer.”

Emma wet her lips. “Yeah.” Long pause. She didn't want to hang up. “Killian?”

“Yes?”

“Remember that thing I was trying to ask you?”

“Aye. What is it?”

“You know the Greek Halloween party?”

“I've heard of it.”

“Well, they wear masks and stuff and I was wondering if...maybe...you'd like to go. With me. Well, not with me, with me, because that would be obvious, but we could meet there? Christ, I'm rambling, please stop me.”

Killian laughed. She was so adorable when she was flustered. “I'd love to go with you, lass. But as you said...meeting there. While wearing masks. Do you think that will work?”

“Well, it's pretty crowded. And I bet you could pass for a student if you wanted to. Plus, you know, the mask.”

“Then I am at your disposal, Emma.”

Emma was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. They were going on a date...of sorts. “Well...I guess I'll see you Friday?”

“Aye. Bright and early.”

“Okay.” She still wasn't hanging up. God, she was becoming one of _those_ girls.

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

* * *

“Emma, are you okay?” Ingrid asked.

Emma frowned in concentration, trying to focus on the damn grappling hook. She thought this would get easier as she got older; evidently she was wrong. “Yeah,” she said absently. “I'm fine.”

“You've been acting odd ever since I got here.”

Emma pressed her lips together...one more inch...then... “Yes!” she cried, trapping the little stuffed toy.

Ingrid grinned. “Do you remember the first time we did this?”

Emma bent down to retrieve her prize. “At that fair. You told me you were going to adopt me.” She handed the stuffed bear to her adoptive mother. “Best day of my life.”

Ingrid looked a little teary. “I knew. The moment I saw you. I wanted us to be family.”

“We are.” Emma frowned, cocking her head. “Is this some empty nest thing? What's wrong?”

Ingrid hugged the bear, guiding Emma to the next game for them to play. This was their birthday tradition, playing arcade games and eating junk food. Ingrid sighed. “I guess I still see you as that little girl sometimes, Emma.”

“Mom, I was fourteen, hardly a little girl.”

“And now you're twenty three. A semester away from graduating college.”

“I'd have never been able to do any of this without you.” Emma picked up one of the weighted balls and tossed it up the ramp. Skee ball was one her favorite games.

Ingrid laughed. “I don't know about that. You were quite resourceful, even then. I think you would have succeeded at whatever you put your mind to.”

Emma finished her turn and swapped. She took a sip of her soda before replying. “I still have to get into law school.”

“You will.” Ingrid tossed a ball. “Any idea which one you want to go to?”

She had a short list, but she hadn't given the topic much thought since she started dating Killian. Quite a few of them were far away. Obviously letting a brand new relationship cloud her decision was a bad idea. “Well, I doubt I could get into Harvard or Yale. But there's Dickinson, Stanford, Michigan. Even Penn.”

Ingrid frowned. “Stanford's in California.”

“I know. But that's kind of like Harvard. Almost impossible to get in. But I thought I'd apply anyway, just to see.”

“You know I'll support you no matter what.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, I know.”

They played a few more games before pausing for dinner. Emma had a burger and onion rings, Ingrid pizza. It was a challenge to keep a straight face, since the last time Emma had pizza, she and Killian had just as sex on his couch. A challenge, but Emma managed it. They talked about other things, Ingrid's sisters, upcoming Thanksgiving plans, the ice cream shop. Emma was doing quite a bit better than other people she'd gone to high school with, if Ingrid's stories were accurate.

After their meal, one of the staff brought out an oversized cupcake. It had a single candle. Emma blushed as a small group of people sang “Happy birthday” while Ingrid beamed. She hastily blew out the candle to great applause.

“Did you make a wish?”

She hadn't, but Ingrid didn't need to know that. “Of course.”

“Don't tell me or it won't come true!”

Emma cut the cupcake in half, giving the other half to Ingrid. “What do you wish for?”

“I always want the same thing, Emma. For you to be happy.”

Emma's insides squirmed. She really wanted to tell Ingrid the truth, to let her know that she'd taken a chance and really _was_ happy. But she couldn't. She didn't want Killian to get into trouble. They only had a few more weeks, then they were free. She just hoped Ingrid would forgive her when the time came.

They finished the cupcake, just chatting. Then Emma dragged her mother off to play more games, hoping to distract both of them.

Emma loved spending time with Ingrid, but she was glad when Ingrid left Friday morning. Emma dropped her off at the airport for her early morning flight. They hugged with promises to call often. It would be easier to keep her secret with her mother miles away instead of breathing down her neck.

“Don't forget to have a little fun,” Ingrid reminded her.

Emma nodded. “Does a Halloween party qualify as fun?”

“Definitely. I'll call as soon as I land, okay?”

“I might be in class. Just leave a message.” They hugged one last time. “Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, Emma. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Emma released her mother and watched her disappear inside the terminal. She headed back to the Bug; she only had about forty five minutes to get to Killian's morning class. Emma smoothed down her new skirt (a birthday gift from Elsa) as she slid inside the car.

She found a parking spot with twenty minutes to spare and hurried to the art building. Her heels clacked on the concrete; they forced her to stand up straighter. Her legs were covered in goosebumps but she hadn't wanted to bother with pantyhose. She'd just have to take them off when she got to class. It was a miracle Ingrid hadn't found out precisely what sort of modeling Emma did for Killian, because she didn't think Ingrid would think he was cute after that!

Killian was there when she arrived. He opened his mouth to speak before getting a proper look at her. He clapped it shut as his eyes roved over her from head to toe. “You, ah, look nice.”

Emma tossed her coat on his desk. “Birthday gift.”

“I hope you thanked them properly, lass.”

Emma remembered Elsa's conspiratorial grin when Emma opened the package. She knew exactly for whom Emma would wear such a thing. She stepped closer to Killian; they were still alone. “I did actually. You like it?”

Killian swallowed and nodded. He swore one of these days her beauty would kill him. At least it was a good way to go, death by beautiful woman. He reached out and touched her bare leg, just above the knee. “Very much.”

Emma's skin warmed where he was touching her, her body responding automatically. It wasn't a very sexual touch, but they'd been apart for nearly five whole days. She definitely wanted him.

They stayed like that, close but not too close, staring, until the first arrivals echoed in the hall. Emma sighed and grabbed her things, heading for the screen. She needed to pull the mess of curls up off her neck before class started.

Killian took a series of deep breaths. After the close call on Wednesday, he'd left Emma alone, allowing her to spend time with her mother unimpeded. He distracted himself by glazing their pottery project and taking it to the school kiln for firing. He held office hours. Met with a few colleagues for department meetings. Worked out until he was exhausted and went to bed early. He woke up that morning with a spring in his step because he knew he'd be seeing Emma.

He just hadn't expected her to set his heart racing in a skirt and heels. The skirt wasn't even that scandalous, coming down to just past mid thigh. But the heels gave her legs for miles and he couldn't tear his eyes away. Unbidden, an image of those legs wrapped around his hips, heels digging into his ass rose. He squashed it; there was still a class to teach.

A class where Emma would be nude.

Cursing silently, Killian stood, his back to the platform. He heard, rather than saw, Emma step out from behind the screen. He was very attuned to her movements, even with his back turned. He called the class to order.

“Over the next few weeks,” he began, “we will start preparing you for the final project in this class. A piece rendered over several sessions with _close_ observation of detail. When completed, your work will be hung and displayed, as you would find in a real gallery. Any questions?”

“How will you choose which pieces are hung?” a female student asked.

“All of them will, Miss Foster. Did I not make myself clear?”

Emma had to stifle a giggle. Foster was one of the fangirls. Not that Killian ever noticed things like that. She breathed in through her nose so she wouldn't laugh.

“That is, of course, weeks away. Today I would like you to focus on how light and shadow play with your perception. If you have any questions, I shall be observing.” He turned and stepped up onto the platform, adjusting the lights as Emma removed the robe and slid onto the chaise. Her pose wasn't quite what he wanted so he manipulated her body to demonstrate what he was looking for. Emma suppressed a shiver, wondering just who he was fooling. Then again, he'd probably done this with other models.

She scowled.

Killian raised a curious brow, but said nothing. He stole a barely there stroke of her breast before leaving, allowing the class to begin.

Emma followed him with her eyes, noting the artfully mussed hair, the perfectly trimmed scruff. As usual, Killian's sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. He gestured a lot with his hands, murmuring quietly to someone. Her mother may have thought Killian merely cute, but he was sex on legs and Emma needed this class to be over as soon as possible.

Killian kept moving around the room, hoping his feigned interest in teaching would hide the yearning he felt. Emma appeared to be perfectly composed but he could see the want in her eyes. Her nipples were hard, but he couldn't tell if that was arousal or chill. They'd been unable to share more than fleeting touches in many days; he hoped she needed him as much as he needed her.

By the end of class, Emma was nervous and jerky, hurrying to dress. She fumbled a bit with the zipper of her skirt, the buttons of her blouse. If they _didn't_ go to his office, she would have to go home and take a very cold shower. She hadn't been this aroused since their first night and he hadn't even touched her.

“Miss Swan?” Killian asked, as she came down, coat in hand. There were still a couple of people in the room.

“Yeah?”

“Might I have a word? We should discuss your role over the next several weeks.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Sure, okay.” She nodded at the stragglers and shrugged into her coat. She and Killian left, neither daring to walk too close. Emma could still feel the air crackling around them. Their warm breathing clouded the air.

They walked across the grass, looking neither left nor right. Emma followed him into the building and down the stairs to his office. Killian furtively checked the hall and led Emma inside. Then he closed and locked the door.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped, leaning his forehead against the door.

Emma tossed her bag and took off her coat. “Killian?”

He rounded on her, his eyes dark and hooded. “Never again,” he said in a low growl. “We're not going that long again.”

Emma boldly stepped forward, hands on his chest. “That long for what?”

Killian's large hands spanned her waist, leaning in until they were nearly chest to chest. “Don't play coy with me, love. I know you feel it.”

Her hands moved over the smooth cloth, molding to his defined chest. Her mouth inched closer to his, he could feel her breath on his skin. “Feel what?”

Killian let out a strangled moan and closed the gap, kissing her hard. Emma mewled in pleasure, pulling him closer. Or trying to. There was no space between them as they devoured each other's mouths.

“I need you, love,” he gasped between kisses. “Right here.”

“Yes,” she breathed, fingers twining in his hair, relishing the feel of the dark thick stands between them. “Oh yes, Killian.”

He plucked at the buttons of her blouse, groaning when he saw the black lace. “All this for me?”

She nodded. “I didn't want to wait. Missed you.”

Killian backed her toward his desk, large hands fondling his lace clad breasts. “Missed you too,” he mumbled, mouth lowering to the swell of her breast. He licked and sucked, teeth scraping the skin. He normally couldn't leave marks on her, as much as he wanted to. But the weekend was approaching, so he chanced a small light one. Emma keened, burying her head in his shoulder to stifle the sound.

Emma already had her legs spread, hitched up on his hips, wantonly grinding herself against the bulge in his pants. She could feel how hard he was through the layers, hear the little hitching sound he made when she rubbed him just right. “Killian...oh god...please. Need you.”

He hitched her skirt up around her waist, jerking her panties off. He stuffed them into his pocket as Emma worked getting his pants open. He couldn't stop the groan when she freed him, her hand deftly stroking him to greater hardness, if that were possible. He already felt like he would explode from want.

His fingers found her slit, slipping effortlessly along the sensitive flesh. Emma bit back a moan, hips rocking into his touch. She was incredibly wet, desperate to feel him inside. He slipped two fingers in her wet heat and she keened. “Fuck, you're so wet.”

“Hurry,” she pleaded. She didn't know how long they would have even with the locked door. Killian snatched the condom from his pocket, then pushed his pants down. He tore it open with his teeth, rolling on the barrier efficiently. She urged him on, clutching at his shoulders as he pushed in deep. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh yes.”

Killian groaned, holding her tighter by the hips. “This won't be gentle,” he warned, still trying to hold himself back. He needed her too badly for gentleness.

“I know,” she panted, wrapping her legs firmly around his hips. “Fuck me, Killian.”

Just like that the tenuous thread snapped and he took her, deep powerful strokes that should have had her screaming his name. Emma stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out, her walls pulling him back every time he withdrew. He pushed her flat on her back, hips rutting into hers harder and faster, like he was trying to imprint himself on her body. Emma met him stroke for stroke, spiraling closer and closer to the release she needed so badly.

He jerked his hips, seeking her sweet spot. Emma's whole body shuddered when he found it; she yanked him down and fused their mouths together to muffle her cries. She gasped as she fell over the edge, her orgasm coming in waves. Killian fucked her through it, snarling, gritting his teeth. He shuddered and jerked, muttering her name as he emptied himself inside her.

Killian laid his head on her chest, still buzzing from his high, but a bit ashamed at his lack of control. He hadn't really meant it to happen this way. Emma sensed his unease, stroking his hair. “You okay?” she asked.

“I feel like I should be asking you that, love.”

He felt her lips on his brow. “That was amazing.”

Killian raised his head, pleased to see her sated blissed out expression. “Aye?”

“Yeah.” She coaxed his lips to hers, kissing him sweetly. “I think I can make it through the rest of the day now.”

Killian chuckled low in his throat. “I was doing quite well until someone showed up in a short skirt and heels.”

“And who would that be?”

“You.” Killian moved to stand up, pulling Emma with him until she was sitting up. They worked at straightening their clothing, just in case anyone happened by. Killian returned her panties rather reluctantly, but she couldn't very well run around without them in the cold. Task accomplished, he sat in his chair, Emma perched in his lap.

“So how was your week?” she asked, lightly scratching the nape of his neck.

Killian purred, a bit like a cat. He'd have been embarrassed if it didn't feel so good. “Long,” he said truthfully. “But I got a few things accomplished.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, this and that. Your vase is ready. And I got you a present.”

Emma frowned. “You didn't have to...”

“Well, it's not something I bought, exactly. And it's your birthday. Well, was. I wanted to celebrate it.”

Emma blushed. “I think we kinda did.”

Killian smirked. “While I appreciate you indulging one of my many fantasies, love, I did have something more tangible in mind.”

Emma cocked her head, curious. “What is it?”

He gave her a little push and she stood. She moved back, watching eagerly as he bent over his desk and pulled out a large rectangular shaped...thing. It was wrapped in colorful paper with a red ribbon. He handed it to her and she had to prop it on the chair to tear it open. Her jaw dropped.

“Oh Killian...it's...thank you so much!” She put the framed canvas down hastily and threw her arms around him. He grunted a little under the force of her hug, smiling all the same.

“I'm glad you like it, darling.”

“Like it? It's something you made, I love it.” He'd gifted her the ocean sunset she loved so much, now in a beautiful wood frame. She knew how he felt about his work; she understood what it meant to him, to give her this.

And that was the moment. Emma realized with startling clarity that she _loved_ him. It wasn't the gift. He didn't have to give her anything but himself, which he did...so effortlessly. He opened his heart to her, his home, his _art_. He'd just given her a piece of himself and she loved him for it.

She didn't want to say anything and ruin the moment, so she kissed him. A sweet loving kiss, one that she hoped conveyed the weight of what she was feeling. Killian held her close, wishing he could freeze the moment.

“We've probably lingered long enough,” he said, a bit sad.

Emma sighed. “Yeah.”

“Will I see you soon?”

“Technically, you'll see me after lunch.”

“You know what I meant.”

Emma nodded. “I've got a shift at Granny's tomorrow morning, til about four. After that? I'm all yours.”

“Another Sunday off? Is that a sign of the apocalypse?”

“I may have asked for this one,” Emma admitted. “And Ruby owes me a favor.”

“Well, however it happened, I'm thrilled to have you all to myself.”

“We can pick out Halloween costumes!”

Killian pretended to groan. “Aye, that ruddy party.”

“Well, if you don't want to go...”

“Emma, I was teasing. My only regret is that I can't claim you as my date properly.”

Emma squeezed his hand. “Yeah, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy the perks of such a situation.”

“And what perks would those be?”

“I guess you'll just have to wait and see.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

“What about this one?” Elsa asked.

Emma looked up from the rack she was examining. She frowned. “Hmm, too dark, I think.”

They were out shopping for Halloween costumes. Elsa was thrilled that Emma wanted to attend the party and even more thrilled that it would be a secret date with Killian. Elsa seemed to be living vicariously through Emma, just happy to see her friend happy. That was Elsa's way, really. She derived happiness by seeing the people she cared about happy. But Emma was starting to think that perhaps Elsa could take a turn on the dating scene. She was pretty, talented, kind hearted. If Emma—who had been so resistant to dating and relationships—could find love, then Elsa could too.

Good lord, Emma was starting to sound like Ingrid. Or her friend, Mary Margaret.

But was that so bad? Emma couldn't deny she was happy. She hadn't told Killian she loved him. Not yet. She carried the knowledge around like a talisman, warming her through long shifts at the diner or hours doing homework. It had been a week since she realized it and she was no less certain than she had been that day in Killian's office. To an outsider, it may seem fast, but if Emma were being honest with herself...she'd been falling for him for a while. Almost since she met him. They'd both resisted because of the whole student/teacher thing, but that was a losing battle.

Still, Emma was afraid. Not of the strength of her feelings. Not even of his for her. He was risking far more than she was by being with her. Killian wasn't a flighty or frivolous person. He genuinely cared about her. She could feel it every time he looked at her, touched her. She knew the difference now, understood how Neal had taken advantage of her relative innocence and used her. Killian wasn't like that. He'd been heartbroken by someone he trusted too. She was curious about that but hoped he would open up on his own. She wasn't exactly blurting all her secrets either. It was a process, a discovery, and Emma was enjoying every moment.

She just didn't want things to get more complicated than they already were. She would tell him...soon.

“Emma? Are you listening to me?” Elsa said, snapping her fingers in Emma's face.

“Sorry, what?” Emma said, cheeks pinking.

“I asked if you and Killian had decided to coordinate your costumes.” Elsa grinned indulgently, still wondering at the change that had come over her friend. Emma mooning over a guy was very atypical, but to Elsa it was all the more precious. If anyone deserved to be loved and cherished, it was Emma.

Emma bit her lip. “Wouldn't that be obvious? We've got a cover to maintain, Elsa.” The truth was they had talked about it...a little. They spent most of the weekend making up for lost time. Killian did take her for a short hike in the woods behind his place, but they'd wound up making out on a large weathered rock, warming them to the point where they had to get back inside. With as little alone time as they got, was it any wonder they spent so much of it in his bed?

“Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean you can't have fun with it,” Elsa pointed out. “There won't be that many people there that know you.”

Emma cocked a stern brow at her friend. “Elsa, you know that Mary Margaret can't keep a secret to save her life. I love her, but seriously.”

Elsa sighed. “I know. Let's be thankful that Anna is still at home too.”

“Yeah, you definitely got the secret keeping skills in your family,” Emma teased. Honestly, Anna was great. She just sometimes spoke before she thought. Most of the time it was cute.

Elsa smiled. “Growing up with her was...never boring.” She looked at the racks of clothes. “Let's try somewhere else. What do _you_ want to be?”

Emma shrugged. “I'm not sure. Halloween wasn't my favorite holiday as a kid.”

They got in her Bug and Elsa guided them to another vintage shop. “What's Killian going to be? Do you know?”

“He said something about a pirate?”

“A pirate?” Elsa's eyes it up. “Oh! That could be fun! Are we talking Han Solo sexy smuggler pirate or Blackbeard 'grr argh' pirate?”

“Or maybe Captain Hook?” Emma joked. “Knowing him though...well, honestly, I don't think there's a way he wouldn't be sexy.”

“Is there something you want to talk about, Emma?” Elsa said slyly.

Emma groaned. “Ellllsaaaa,” she whined. “Do you really want to have this discussion?”

“Well, we couldn't have it while Ingrid was here,” Elsa pointed out. “And I've hardly seen you since you hooked up with my old professor!”

Emma scowled. “It's not like that!”

Elsa bit her lip, worried she'd crossed a line. She'd only been teasing. “Sorry, Emma. I didn't mean to imply that it was.” They were silent for a long beat. “You care about him, don't you?”

Emma turned the corner and pulled into the nearest parking place. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I do. A lot. Did I tell you he gave me one of his paintings? For my birthday?”

Suddenly, Elsa's features lit up with comprehension. “That's...a big deal, Emma.”

“I know. I just mentioned that I liked it. Once, maybe twice. It's beautiful, the ocean at sunset. I never expected him to just...give it to me.”

“He's only got that one piece up in the teacher's gallery,” Elsa said. “Most of the others have more. I wonder why?”

Emma shrugged. “I don't know. He's very...private about his art. He said his brother doesn't really understand it or why he loves it so much.” She didn't think it was a good idea to mention the numerous erotic sketches Killian had done of Emma. Those were hers alone.

“He has a brother?!”

Emma laughed. “Down, girl. Liam's already married. They're expecting their first child, Killian said.”

Elsa flushed. “Emma, I didn't mean...”

“Yeah, I know. But you should have seen the look on your face!” Elsa huffed. “Come on, Elsa! Shopping?”

Elsa agreed, pretending she was still annoyed. But Emma knew better. They got out of the Bug and went into the next shop. This one was a little musty but that was okay. They headed toward the back where the formal wear was. Turned out the musty smell was coming from the old chests in the front of the shop, lightening as they strolled deeper into the sales space.

“So back to Killian the sexy pirate,” Elsa said, moving toward a rack of dresses.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Would you give it a rest?”

“You said it. Although, I can see your point. Why do you think the fangirls follow him in droves?”

“Ugh, don't remind me.”

“At least at this party he'll have a mask on. That should keep them at bay.”

“Elsa, you're acting like I have to beat them off with sticks or something!”

“Well, don't you?”

Emma shrugged. “He doesn't seem to notice them. Like at all. He snapped at one of them in class last week. It was funny.”

Elsa considered this. “Seems he only has eyes for you.”

Emma flushed again. “Yeah, I guess.” They went back to looking at dresses. She had a vague idea of being some kind of princess...to Killian's pirate. And since this was a date of sorts, she wanted to dress up. Plus wasn't Halloween supposed to be about being someone other than yourself for a little while?

“What about this one?”

Emma looked at it. “It's okay. I was thinking something more...I don't know...elegant?”

“Hmmm.” Elsa went back to the racks, considering their choices. The town didn't have that many vintage stores; they'd been at it for a couple of hours already. And Emma was starving.

She moved to another rack and flicked through, not very hopeful. Until something gold caught her eye. “Oh, what about this one?” Emma asked, drawing it from the rack and holding it up. It had a high neck, the back was sheer. The long skirt was made of layers of chiffon; even holding it made her feel a bit light on her feet. She wasn't much of a dancer, but it made her want to try.

Elsa's blue eyes lit up. “I like it. This is some really fine work with the flowers. Do you want to try it on?”

It was the first dress that had sparked her interest all evening. “Yeah.” She looked around for the changing room, spotting it in the corner. She hurried in and kicked off her shoes. She shimmied out of her jeans and sweater and removed her bra. She wouldn't be able to wear one with the dress. Carefully, Emma unzipped it and stepped into it.

It fit.

She got the zipper most of the way up herself, just to make sure. It had some support built into the bust, hugging her curves enticingly. She moved around a bit, standing up on her toes to simulate wearing heels. She certainly  _felt_ a bit like a princess.

“Come on, Emma! I want to see!” Elsa called.

Emma opened the door and stepped out. “What do you think?”

Elsa grinned, clapping her hands together happily. “I think it's wonderful. How do you feel?”

“Strange, honestly,” Emma replied. “I'm not used to anything like this.” When she did wear skirts they were mostly soft and feminine, except for the art party. Or they were something like Elsa had gotten her for her birthday. Emma had never gone to any school dances in high school. They just weren't her thing.

Elsa stepped back, putting on her metaphorical artist's hat. Emma had seen Killian do the same plenty of times. Usually right before he started to sketch her. “I think...yeah, if we can find you a pretty patterned mask and a tiara, you'll be a gorgeous princess!”

Emma squirmed. “A tiara?”

Elsa raised her eyebrows. “Obviously. If he's a pirate, you have to be his princess!”

It was what Emma herself had been thinking; Elsa saying it made it real.

“Besides,” Elsa was saying, “I bet there will be a ton of other princess types there. Disney is very in.”

“What, like Cinderella?”

“Isn't there a Swan Princess or something? I bet we could find you a mask with feathers!”

“No feathers!” Emma cried. “I'm drawing the line at feathers, Elsa.”

Elsa held up her hands. “Fine, fine, no feathers.”

Emma glared for another minute to make her point, then went back to change. She hung the dress up, careful not to snag the fabric. It would be by far the most delicate thing she'd ever owned. She just hoped Killian liked it.

It took them another shop to find her suitable mask, tiara and shoes. After that, they caught a late dinner. It wasn't until nearly eleven o'clock that she got to call Killian.

“How did the shopping go, love?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling. He was probably in bed, Emma thought.

“Good. I think I found something. Did you decide on the pirate thing?”

“Aye. Got my costume yesterday.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Killian laughed. “You didn't ask, darling,” he pointed out. “You were rather interested in  _divesting_ me of my clothing, if memory serves.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You didn't seem to be complaining.”

“Emma, if I ever complain about my lovely girlfriend stripping me naked then you will know something is very wrong.”

Emma gulped. Was this the first time he'd actually referred to her as his girlfriend? How could something so innocuous give her a warm fuzzy feeling all the way down to her toes? “I'll keep that in mind,” she deadpanned. “So which pirate are you going to be?”

“It's a surprise, love.”

“How am I going to know it's you?” Emma demanded. “You'll be wearing a mask!”

“Isn't that the point of this little exercise?”

“I thought the point was for me to go on a date with my boyfriend.”

Killian sighed. “My apologies, Emma. I'm frustrated by our circumstances as well.”

“You are?”

“Of course. I'd love to take you out to dinner. Or to the theater. Or walk down the street holding your hand.” That last bit came out a little bitter.

“Such a romantic,” Emma said lightly after a long pause.

“Is that a problem?”

Emma felt herself smiling. “No. Not at all.”

* * *

Killian adjusted his mask for the twelfth time, trying to make absolutely sure half his face was covered. The bloody thing kept sliding up his nose. He hadn't dressed up for Halloween since he was a teenager; he felt faintly ridiculous. But it was a chance to be out with Emma. In public, even if no one knew it was them. He'd endure far worse to be with her.

It should have been alarming, just how quickly he fell for her. Especially after what happened with Milah. He'd crossed to a whole other continent to get away from that heartbreak. His determination to remain aloof and alone was shattered by a single woman with sunshine hair and dazzling green eyes. And now that he knew her better, he was more in love than he'd ever been in his life. He didn't want to press his luck, but he could picture a future with her.

For now, he simply had to accept what he was given, and wait out this infernal situation they'd found themselves in. He'd never wanted a semester to be over faster in his life.

He sighed and got out of his car. Emma was supposed to be arriving with Elsa...then leaving with him, if everything went to plan. She'd given him a detailed description of her costume so he could find her. Insisting on keeping his costume a vague secret seemed childish, but he enjoyed surprising her. He liked the way her mouth twitched like she was trying  _not_ to smile...all while her eyes danced with happiness and mirth.

The party was in the same place the art department showing had been but it was completely transformed. Instead of faux walls dotting the space, the floor was cleared for dancing. The sound system was already playing very loudly, with a DJ up on the little makeshift stage. A series of multicolored lights—some strobing, some not—were overhead...with a disco ball in the center. It felt more like a club than a building on campus. But, he supposed, that was the point. There were already people dancing, not many but some.

There were a multitude of costumes. Superheroes were popular, as were princesses. Of course there were a fair few risque costumes, sexy maids, construction workers. Dozens of standard Halloween fare, ghosts, skeletons, witches, a couple Frankenstein monsters. Scream masks seemed to be back in vogue; not that he would know, since he usually holed up in his studio on Halloween to avoid trick or treaters. He enjoyed children, but seeing all those happy (and sometimes exasperated) parents depressed him. He thought he would have that by now...with Milah. But it wasn't to be.

He didn't know what his future with Emma held, but he hoped it was an adventure.

Killian put his head down and kept searching for his love.

“Stop looking over your shoulder,” Elsa whispered to Emma.

Emma glared through her mask, “Why?”

“Because it looks like you're looking for someone.”

“I am looking for someone.”

“But you're not supposed to be, remember? You're still Emma Swan, free agent.”

Emma scowled. Elsa was right. “Fine.”

They walked over to a group of their friends. Mary Margaret was there with her boyfriend David (they were dressed as Snow White and Prince Charming, nauseatingly adorable), Ruby was chatting to someone Emma didn't know. Her coworker was dressed as a sexy Red Riding Hood and pulled it off very well. She'd recently broken up with her semi serious boyfriend, but there was no way Ruby was going home alone tonight. David's buddy Kristoff was there too, dressed as...an eskimo? It was hard to tell. It went well with Elsa's Ice Queen costume, very frosty.

“Emma! Elsa!” Mary Margaret called. “There you are!”

“We were getting punch,” Emma said, holding up her plastic cup. The punch was spiked, of course. The frats knew how to throw a party.

“These masks aren't very useful, are they?” Mary Margaret said. “I know who you were right away.”

“Yeah, but you know us,” Elsa pointed out. She caught Emma's moment of panic. “It works on people you don't know.”

“Great for first impressions, right, Emma?” Ruby said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Naturally, Ruby would expect Emma to help her troll for a random hookup. Although, it looked like she was already doing fine on her own.

Emma nodded. “Yeah...right.”

“I love this dress,” Mary Margaret gushed. “Where did you find it?”

That distracted them for a while, as Emma and Elsa talked about their shopping trip. Emma was getting more nervous by the second, wondering where in the hell Killian was. She scanned the crowd around them as much as she could for anyone dressed as a pirate. She saw a couple possibilities but the build was all wrong. She hoped Killian hadn't changed his mind.

“Would you like to dance?”

Emma's heart sped up...until she realized the timber of the voice was all wrong. As was the accent. Irish, not Killian's crisp English. She smiled briefly under her mask. It was Ruby's earlier friend. “Sure, I guess.”  _Free agent_ , she reminded herself. She only had to pretend until Killian found her.

The guy (he was dressed as some kind of woodsman? It was difficult to tell) took her hand and led her onto the dancefloor. He was taller than her, perhaps a little taller than Killian? She couldn't decide, her view skewed by the heels she was wearing. He seemed handsome enough under the mask, but she didn't feel anything. When Killian touched her, her skin hummed, her heart beat faster. This was just...nothing.

“My name's Graham,” the man said, slowly revolving with her on the spot.

“Emma.”

“Snow White was right; this is a beautiful dress.”

Emma didn't reply; she didn't want to encourage him. Her eyes kept scanning the crowd.

That's when she spotted him.

It was the jawline that gave him away.

Killian's jaw was clenched, locked in place. He'd spotted her a few minutes before just as the Huntsman bloke asked her to dance. He'd been on the verge of marching up to her and doing the exact same thing. And been beaten. Jealousy coursed through him, even though Emma did not appear to be enjoying herself. Her gaze locked with his, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Involuntarily, a shiver raced down her spine. It hadn't been her intention to make him jealous, but she wasn't upset by it. No doubt it would lead to good things in the future.

“Cold, lass?”

Emma gave herself a little shake. She'd forgotten she was dancing with someone. “No, no, I'm fine.”

“Perhaps we should get a drink?”

“No, we can stay here.” She shot Killian a look, a conspiratorial grin on her face. _Come and get me._

Killian had to work hard to suppress the smirk that threatened to curl his lips. Emma may have been dressed like a princess (and a very beautiful one) but she was still his daring vixen, determined to drive him mad. He thought about simply cutting in, but two could play this jealousy game. He spotted a dark haired girl dressed as...something he couldn't identify. One of those superheroes Emma was so fond of...Wonder...Woman, perhaps? Yes, there was a lasso and silver bracelets and the skimpy red, white and blue outfit.

He stepped up to the lass and asked her to dance. She accepted and Killian led them onto the floor.

Wonder Woman? Killian was dancing with _Wonder Woman?_ Emma licked her lips, trying to maintain her indifferent facade. Inside, she was almost vibrating with jealousy. Granted, she'd inadvertently started this game, but in that moment she didn't care. Killian was _hers_ , damn it.

Poor Graham was trying to engage Emma in conversation again as the song changed, but Emma wasn't paying attention. She was watching Killian out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't exactly comfortable, which eased her ego a bit. It was some of the most awkward dancing Emma had ever seen, in point of fact. Wonder Woman kept trying to get closer and Killian kept trying not to let her. Emma would have felt bad if she didn't want to rip Wonder Woman's head off.

They were slowly getting closer to each other, weaving in and out of the other couples. It was simply a matter of who broke first.

They would playfully argue about it for a long time afterward, but the truth probably was that they broke at virtually the same time. Emma disengaged from Graham almost the exact same moment Killian broke off from Wonder Woman. Emma marched off toward the punch bowl again, Killian on her heels.

“Care for a drink, Your Highness?”

Emma turned her head, considering him. “Were you talking to me? I thought you were with the Amazon.”

Killian wasn't entirely certain what that meant, but he hoped she was simply continuing their game. “If you'd rather go back to your Huntsman...”

Emma looked him up and down. He was dressed in black from head to toe. Heavy leather boots, tight leather pants, one of those period linen shirts that exposed just the right amount of chest hair. He even had a sword. All topped off with a mask that covered half his face. He looked good enough to eat. “Would you make it worth my while, pirate?”

Killian grinned devilishly, the dimples flashing in his cheeks. “I've never disappointed a lass yet, highness. Though none of them were as beautiful as you.” He made a flourishing bow and Emma had to bite her cheek to keep a ridiculous grin off her face. He was good at this role play thing. And it was _fun._

Emma nodded formally. “You may have your drink...”

“They call me the Dread Pirate Roberts, highness.” Emma barely contained her giggle as he got her drink, then his. Leave it to him to chose _The Princess Bride._ He offered his arm and they walked off together, leaving two disappointed people in their wake.

Killian found them a somewhat secluded table, going so far as to move a fake tree in front of it to block the view even more. After sitting down beside her, he swooped down and kissed her, his gloved hands cradling her face.

“I've wanted to do that since I spotted you,” he murmured against her lips. He continued to pepper her lips with kisses. Emma made no effort to stop him, her body tingling with awareness. This was what made Killian different. He made her _feel_ with a simple look. Or touch. Or kiss. “Then you were with...whoever that was.”

Emma curled her hands around his forearms, holding him to her. “You were with Wonder Woman,” she countered, nipping at his lip.

“Hated every second,” he mumbled, deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped past her lips, igniting a spark in her belly. Emma's soft moan was lost in the noise of the party, her hands wandering his torso and back. Killian bit back his own moan, realizing that this could quickly get out of hand. He pressed one last deep kiss to her lips then pulled back for air. They leaned their heads together, their masks impeding skin to skin contact. It was just as well.

“Better?” Emma asked.

“I'll be better when I have you all to myself, darling.”

“I thought you wanted to be out on a date.”

Killian sat up straighter, tugging off his gloves. He reached for her hand, lacing the fingers. “I do, but where we don't have to pretend to be something we're not. Until then, this will do. Your Highness.” He grinned, tongue planted firmly in his cheek.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“Tiara? Gorgeous ball gown? Aye, I'd say you make a smashing princess, love.”

Emma flushed. “Thanks. I like your Dread Pirate Roberts too.”

Killian stole another kiss. “So how was the party before you found my dashing self?”

Emma laughed. “It's been okay. Did you see the guy dressed up like a gladiator?”

“Aye. He was very...enthusiastic.”

“They say this is the best party all semester; I guess we'll get to see if it's true.”

“Was that your reasoning behind dancing with that bloke?”

Emma didn't miss the edge of jealousy in his voice. “I was with my friends. You know, the ones who don't know about you? If I refused, they would have wanted to know why. Honestly, I thought he was here with Ruby.”

Killian leaned back, averting his eyes because he knew she was right. “I...didn't expect it to bother me so much,” he admitted softly. “My apologies if I was out of line.”

Emma squeezed his hand. “You weren't. I thought it was kinda cute.” She grinned, conveniently not mentioning that his darkened features had turned her on. He hadn't made a scene or manhandled her or anything, so there was nothing to get up in arms about.

“Cute?” he spluttered.

“Well, maybe not _just_ cute,” she added. Her eyes roved over him again, a hand resting on his leather clad thigh. She leaned in close to his ear. “It was very hot.”

Killian groaned. “Bloody hell.” He took a long sip of the punch; he didn't know what it was spiked with, but he had a feeling he'd need more before they finally went home. Emma's fingers wandered, just to tease him.

They didn't do much talking for a while, content to kiss and touch. There was an element of danger to it, since they _could_ get caught. After their second drink, Killian asked Emma to dance.

“Do you think our admirers will mind?”

“They can sod off for all I care,” Killian retorted. “You're _my_ princess.”

Emma took his hand. “And you're _my_ pirate.”

“Too right, lass.”

Emma laughed merrily and led them toward the dancefloor. Their secluded corner kept them away from the most of the partygoers, so Emma hadn't had a chance to point out her friends to him. He may not be able to meet them yet, but she could point them out. A slow song started to play and Killian bowed formally again.

“May I have this dance?”

Emma curtsied and smiled. “You may.” Now that they were back amongst the crowd, they had to slip a bit more into their roles...two people who just met at this party and hit it off. Their costumes helped with the role play. Killian wrapped his arm around Emma's slim waist, taking her other hand in his.

“We're going to have to get a little closer, lass,” he murmured in her ear. He tugged her a closer, her chiffon skirt rustling. Emma sighed as her body hummed, relishing the near contact. Killian grinned happily, thrilled to be holding her where people could see. Even if no one knew what she meant to him. They kept things slow; Emma's hands found their way to the nape of his neck.

“You are beautiful, Emma,” Killian whispered. The highnecked gown suited her, gold and sheer, sleeveless, clinging to her curves. She looked like a princess from another age, her beauty ethereal and eternal.

She flushed. “Thanks.”

The song changed, picking up tempo. Emma grinned and started to move her hips to the beat. She'd had just enough to drink to let loose without feeling like an idiot. She dragged Killian's large hands to her hips, encouraging him to move with her. “Come on, pirate. Show me what you've got!”

Killian's feral grin threatened to dislodge his mask. He whipped her around and pressed her back to his front; she fit perfectly against his body. They laughed as they danced, hands wandering, hips grinding together. Emma could feel him hardening through the layers of clothes. She loved that only she could make him feel that way.

They weren't the only ones dancing; the floor was teaming with people. Briefly, Emma caught sight of Ruby who seemed very interested in someone dressed as a vampire. They were making out, right there in front of everyone. Ruby didn't have much restraint at the best of times, not that Emma was judging her. Killian's hands were planted on her hips, right over the front of her pelvis, holding her to him as they moved to the music.

“Emma,” he whispered in her ear. He sounded a bit short of breath.

“Hmm?”

“I'd really like to be kissing you right now.”

“Is that all?” Emma asked slyly, her hand reaching around and grabbing his ass.

“Bloody minx. Don't start things you can't finish.”

“Have I ever?”

Killian's low growl rumbled against her chest. It was so much fun to rile him up. “Should we find our broom cupboard?”

“So it's our broom cupboard now?”

“You did accost me there, my love.”

A jolt shot down her spine, remembering that kiss. “Lead on, pirate.”

“As you wish.” Killian took her hand and led them through the crowd, occasionally pushing people out of their way. No one took much notice of them, as there were literally dozens of couples enjoying the music. They cleared the crowd and Killian turned left then right, finding the secluded hallway that led to the broom cupboard.

Emma was biting her lip, excited to be stealing away like this. Killian opened the door and ushered her inside, shutting the door and locking it. “Killian...wha...” But she never got to finish her sentence. She wasn't even sure what she planned on saying. All that mattered was Killian kissing her like his life depended on it.

He pushed the mask off her face, needing to see her properly. The tiara came loose with it and fell to the floor with a clatter. It was too loud at the party for anyone to hear what was going on in the broom closet. Emma clutched at his loose shirt, her knees weakening under his ministrations. “Killian...oh my god.”

He backed them into one of the supply racks. “Don't want to ruin your pretty dress,” he murmured, peppering her jaw with kisses.

Emma groaned, fire building between her legs. “That's...nice?”

He chuckled darkly, pressing his hips to hers. She could feel him, hard and thick, an obvious bulge against the leather. “Do you want me, lass?”

“Yes,” Emma replied, hands trailing down his chest. “Always.”

“Hmm, there's a good princess. _Wanting_ to be ravished by the pirate.”

Emma came out of her lust filled haze to look at him in surprise. She hadn't expected some of their role play to spill over here. But she liked it.

“You did promise I wouldn't be disappointed,” she reminded him. “Or was that all talk?”

“Is that a challenge?”

She shrugged. “If you like. Afraid?”

“Not a chance.” Killian fell to his knees, the sword jabbing him in the ribs. He hastily removed it, tossing it aside with a clatter. He smirked up at her, then began to lift her skirt. Emma gasped as he dived under it, his lips already on her overheated skin. Emma curled her fingers around the metal pole of the shelving unit, needing the support to remain upright. Killian kissed and nibbled on her skin, from her knees to her hips, focusing on the inside of her thighs where she was most sensitive. His scruff scratched her but it only made her want him more, more heat pooling at the juncture of her thighs.

It was warm under the skirt but Killian's only concession was to ditch the mask. Dangerous, but necessary. He nuzzled her mound, still covered by his favorite red silk panties. “Naughty girl,” he mumbled, pressing the flat of his tongue against the cloth, right where her clit should be. Emma gasped, her body giving an involuntary shudder. “Oh!”

Her hands were sweating, she struggled to keep hold of the shiny metal. Emma moaned again as Killian pulled the barrier to her sex aside and blew cool air on her heated wet skin. She spread her legs wider, opening to get him to give her want she wanted.

“So eager,” he muttered. He pressed a kiss to her clit, then swirled his tongue around it. Emma keened. “Fuck, you are so wet for me.” He lifted her leg up onto his shoulder, one hand holding the panties in place, the other firmly on her ass to help hold her up. He was going to make her come with just his mouth. He tapped her swollen nub with his tongue, sucking it between his lips. Emma moaned and hissed, lust shooting through her. Fuck, the things he could do with that mouth.

“Don't stop,” she panted. Emma pulled back on the layers of chiffon, trying to see him. The inky black hair greeted her determined hand and she grabbed it. Anything to keep her anchored to some kind of reality. “Fuck.”

“Love your taste,” Killian breathed, his tongue licking and tasting. He could feast on her for hours; perhaps one lazy day she'd give him that opportunity. He alternated between her clit and her entrance, working her with his mouth until she was a quivering mess in his arms. He plunged his tongue inside her and Emma had to bite back a shriek, her orgasm ripping through her. Her hips bucked in his hold, the endorphins spiking her blood. She slumped back against the metal; various supplies rattled and shook, but Emma hardly noticed or cared.

Killian lowered her leg gently, holding her steady until she could stand on her own. Then he rose, adjusting the bloody leather pants he was wearing. They felt more like a vise, restrictive and painful. He was as hard as he could ever remember being, hoping she would allow him to have her again.

“That looks painful,” Emma murmured, her voice a little breathy and slow. She looked down at his crotch, then into his eyes. “Is it?”

Killian nodded. “Aye, love.” He guided her hand there, sighing as she took the hint and rubbed him through the leather. He leaned over her, face buried in her neck, hips rocking into her touch. “Hmm, that's good.”

Emma nodded, her fingers manipulating the button and zip. He let out a strangled moan as the tightness eased, her hand wrapping around his aching cock. “Commando?”

“Only...oh fuck...way for the bloody pants to...ohhh, just like that, Emma...fit.” he panted.

Emma guided his lips back to hers, kissing him hard on the mouth as she stroked him. He was warm and thick and so very hard; it was intoxicating, the things she could do to him. She kept kissing him, adding a twist to her movement every few strokes, his sighs and moans going straight to her clit and making her wet again.

“Need you,” Emma breathed between kisses. “Now, Killian.”

“Fuck.” He looked around, trying to find a way to have her while not ruining her lovely gown. Finally, he moved them back to the door. “Bend over, love.”

Emma obeyed him, shivering as he rucked her skirt up. He yanked down her panties and tossed them over his shoulder. He fondled her ass, admiring the view of the pert round globes from this angle. He rutted his still bare cock through her wetness; she was dripping copiously now.

“Do you have a...” Emma began, but Killian cut her off.

“Aye.” Hastily, he found the packet and tore it open, sheathing himself quickly. He teased her a bit more, taking himself in hand and teasing her clit with the tip of his cock. Her legs were already trembling, the anticipation nearly driving her mad. Emma's fist tightened against the smooth wood of the door as Killian slid inside her at last, in to the hilt with a single stroke.

“Fuck,” he swore, rutting lightly. “So bloody tight.”

“Hurry,” Emma panted, pushing her hips back. Who knew how long they'd been in the closet; what if someone was looking for her? Or tried the door, hoping for a tryst of their own. “Feels so good.”

Killian grabbed her hips and rocked into her, fucking her steadily. He wanted to take his time and build her up slowly, but she was right. They couldn't linger too much longer. Emma braced her hands on the door, absorbing the impact as Killian increased his pace, taking her with more force. She liked it, liked when he lost control, thrusts needy and rough. She mewled in pleasure, hoping the party was still muffling the sounds of their lovemaking.

“Emma, fuck...close,” Killian bit out. “Need you with me, lass.”

Emma slipped a hand from the door and fumbled for her clit. She found it in the layers of her skirt, wet and swollen, and she rubbed it vigorously. Her body tightened immediately and Killian groaned in pleasure. “That's it. So good.”

Emma inhaled sharply, her climax very close. She came in a wealth of color, stars popping across her vision. Killian hissed as her walls clamped around him; he sighed her name a moment later, emptying himself inside her warmth. He lay briefly across her back, murmuring endearments into her ear. Gradually, he softened and stepped back, Emma whining in complaint. She stood on shaky legs, turning to lean heavily against the door.

“Alright, love?” Killian asked, pausing before trashing the condom.

Emma nodded mutely. “Just...give me a minute.” She smiled weakly.

Killian nodded, straightening his clothing. He fetched her panties, mask and tiara and his own mask. He laid them on a little ledge, helping her put her underwear back on. Then he worked on her skirt, fluffing the delicate chiffon. “Thanks,” she said softly.

He kissed her cheek. “It's no trouble.” Her hair was falling from its pins, little tendrils everywhere. “May I?”

Emma nodded. “Probably a good idea. I doubt I could put it back the way it was. Elsa did it for me.”

“She did a beautiful job,” Killian complimented. He combed his fingers through the long waves, fluffing it out. He reinserted the tiara and handed her the mask. “I wish you didn't have to wear this.”

Emma took it, their fingers brushing. “Only for a little while longer. Maybe we could have another drink and dance before we leave? I should probably talk to Elsa too, make sure she's okay.”

“You're a good friend, love.”

Emma shrugged. “Elsa's a bit like family. A sister I never had.”

Killian smiled. “I look forward to meeting her properly in the near future.” Emma pushed off the door and wrapped her arms around him. It meant a lot to her that he wanted to know the people she was close to. Killian hugged her back, surprised, but pleased. He kissed her hair. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Emma let him go and slipped her mask back on. Killian did the same with his. He cracked open the door and peered out. The hallway was deserted; the party was in full swing. He could hear the thumping beat. He nodded at Emma and they stepped out. They went their separate ways; Killian to get them a drink and Emma to find Elsa.

It took her longer than she liked, but Emma eventually found Elsa with David and Mary Margaret; they were talking at one of the tables on the other side of the room.

“Emma!” Elsa cried. “We were wondering where you went off to.”

“What happened to that guy?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Which guy?”

“The one who was talking to Ruby but asked _you_ to dance,” Mary Margaret said slyly.

Emma frowned. “Graham?” She was impressed she could still remember his name. “Yeah, we didn't dance very long.”

“Then where were you? Ruby said she saw you walk off with someone.”

“Is dancing a crime now?” Emma snapped, a little too forcefully.

Elsa jumped up. “Emma, come with me to the ladies room?”

“Uh, sure.” The two women hurried off in the opposite direction. Elsa didn't slow down until they were safely in the room.

“So what happened?”

Emma shrugged. “I found Killian. We danced, had a couple of drinks. He's waiting for me actually. I just wanted to check in with you before we left.”

“You know your hair's down, right?”

Emma blushed. “Sorry about that. Killian liked your creation though.”

“Did he say this before or after he demolished it?”

“I didn't...we didn't...” Emma spluttered, blushing even more.

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Emma, it's okay. I'm not asking for a play by play or anything. Sheesh.” She looked thoughtful. “It's good that he makes you happy.”

Emma relaxed. “Yeah. I just wish we didn't have to hide.”

“The semester's two thirds over now. It'll be over before you know it. Besides...there are perks, right?”

Emma grinned conspiratorially. “Definitely.”

“Then go get him. Have some fun and get out of here!”

“You're gonna be okay to go home?”

“Yeah, I've only had two glasses of punch. And David promised to follow me back to the apartment.”

“Okay.” Spontaneously, Emma reached out and hugged her best friend. “Thanks, Elsa.”

“I like seeing you happy, Emma. You deserve it.”

Emma smiled one last time and went to find her boyfriend.

 


	13. Chapter 13

He traced the smooth line of her bare back, blowing the fringe out of his eyes. He really ought to have had a haircut by now, but Emma professed a fondness for the slightly longer hair. She certainly did enjoy tugging on it every chance she got.

Still, he'd have to do something about it soon. Later, when he wasn't sketching her.

“What are you reading?” he asked, running his fingers through the messy locks.

“You asked me to stay still, remember?”

“Aye, but I thought we promised no schoolwork during our all too fleeting evenings?” It was a few days after Halloween, one of the rare Tuesday evenings they got together. Emma usually tried to do most of her schoolwork during the week so she could spend her weekends with him. He'd been surprised when she showed up with Chinese and a bottle of wine, but pleasantly so.

“It's not a schoolbook...exactly.”

Killian cocked a brow at her. “You know I would never keep you from your schoolwork, love.”

“I appreciate that. A lot. But I had to get out of the apartment. Elsa's sister dropped by unexpectedly, having a crisis.” Emma loved Anna, but her dramatic personality could be a bit much. And she really wanted to finish reading this section of her book. It was more background reading for her proposed internship.

Killian laid his sketch aside. He could work on it later. “Why didn't you just say so?”

Emma marked her page, twisting to face him. “Because I hoped for a quiet evening with my boyfriend?”

Killian softened. “Would you like a back rub while you read?”

Emma smiled at him. “Yes, please. I just need to read about thirty more pages, then I'm all yours.”

“Back in a jiff, lass.” He hurried into the bathroom to wash the charcoal off his hands. Then he grabbed the oil he bought on a whim, with some vague idea of doing this for her some time in the future. Appeared that time was now.

Emma opened her book and propped it against the headboard. She was nude from the waist up, really only a scrap of dark blue lace covered her. She wasn't shy about being naked with him anymore. When he mentioned that he fancied doing a sketch of her, she could tell by the glint in his eyes it would be erotic in nature. She simply decided to kill two birds with one stone, hence the book.

The bed dipped as Killian settled in beside her. He stripped off his shirt and pants; he had a feeling this could get a little messy. He ran his hand over the line he'd just been sketching, tracing the way her spine curved down, the little dimples of her lower back, the swell of her ass. Emma hummed, sighing in contentment despite the goosebumps left in his wake.

“Your hand is cold.”

“I'll just have to warm them up then,” he retorted. He rubbed them together vigorously before straddling her thighs. He skimmed the now warm hands up her back, fingers brushing her sides, the soft swells of her breasts, thumbs along her spine. She looked so delicate like this, pale and soft, but she was strong, strong like steel forged in white hot flames.

“Hmm,” Emma hummed vaguely. She forced herself to focus, to keep the pleasurable sensations at the back of her mind until she finished. Killian tipped a bit of the oil into his hands and rubbed them together once more. Warmth spread from his touch, easing the muscles of her lower back. Emma licked her lips. “Ugh.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, just...I think I needed this more than I thought. Don't stop.” She turned the page, still reading. Emma could read almost anywhere, a handy skill when she had so much to read. She'd never tried to do it while a very handsome man gave her an erotic back rub (with Killian there was no other kind, most times even the most innocent touch could send want shooting through her) but she was willing to try. If she didn't finish, she'd just pick it up tomorrow.

Killian added more oil to his hands, moving up her back. He loved touching her, watching his hands slide over her pale flesh. Her skin was supple and soft and the oil would only help with that. He scooted up, knees on either side of her hips. He was already hardening, his body reacting to the subtle signs of arousal in hers. He sometimes worried about how much he wanted her, how easy it was for them to switch gears from thoughtful conversation and banter to deep seated desire and want. But Emma never reproached him; indeed she was as eager as he, often taking the lead. He loved that, seeing her take control was very arousing.

She'd read the same paragraph three times. Emma groaned, but not from frustration. It was impossible to feel anything but warm and happy under Killian's tender ministrations. Unless he was teasing her and trying to get her to beg. Then he could be cocksure and seemingly cruel, enjoying watching her squirm with need. She moved onto the next paragraph.

“What is that book anyway, love?” Killian asked, massaging her shoulder blades. She had a knot just under her left scapula, he worked it with his thumbs, pressing firmly.

Emma hissed as the knot slowly came undone. “ _Language of the Judicial Process,”_ she recited. “It's for my internship.”

“Sounds complicated.”

Emma shook her head. “I've read worse. Criminal justice definitely isn't sexiest major.”

Killian chuckled. “I'm not so sure about that, darling. Seems pretty sexy from where I'm sitting.”

“That's because I'm naked in your bed.”

“Nearly naked,” he corrected. He leaned down and kissed her still oil free arm. “And I find you sexy all the time, Emma. Clothed or not.”

Emma was tempted to turn her head and kiss him, but she knew if she did, she'd be lost. Kissing him was like a drug; she always wanted more. She never knew anyone who kissed like he did, whether it was slow deep kisses that set her body on fire or fleeting sweet kisses what made her feel all gooey inside. She sighed again, determined to finish the page she was working on.

Killian chuckled and went back to his task. He eased her braid over her shoulder and drizzled some oil on her skin. He smoothed it out, giving her skin a glossy sheen. Emma lowered her head so he could massage her neck, finally giving up on reading. Killian grinned down at her, feeling her become more pliant under him.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“I didn't say we were done, lass.” Killian eased off her and rolled her over. The book slid down the bed, but no one paid it any attention. He drew his oil covered hands over her breasts and stomach; Emma's back arched. “Good?”

She'd been ignoring her increasing arousal for the last half hour but now she gave it free reign. “Mmhmm.” She sighed happily, in no hurry. She could spend hours just like this, arousal ebbing and flowing under her skin like a sluggish river, as long as she was with him.

Killian bent down and kissed her navel, tongue licking at her skin. He wasn't in a hurry either, despite the rather significant tent in his boxers. He saw Emma's eyes slide over him, raising her hands above her head, laying herself out for him.

He groaned; she was heartstoppingly beautiful like this, innocent and yet...not. She was angel and temptress all in one and he was thoroughly beguiled by her. He moved back to her breasts, massaging and teasing the puckered nipples.

Emma moaned again, a ripple of desire working its way down to her toes. She reached out for him at last, catching his neck and urging him up. He followed without hesitation, kissing her, tongue sliding past parted lips. Emma tightened her fingers in his hair, hips rolling of their own accord. “Killian...” she breathed, pausing for air.

“Yes?”

Emma dragged his hand down to her scorching heat. It had built so slowly, so steadily; she  _ached_ . His slick hand molded to her through the fabric; she bucked into his touch. “Oh yes.”

Killian teased her with a single finger, up and down over the damp lace. “Always so wet for me, Emma,” he murmured, kissing along her jaw. “You don't know what that does to me.”

“Oh god,” she moaned. She ran her fingers through his unruly hair—she loved the longer look—dragging him back to her lips. “Please, please.”

“Please what?”

Emma bit her lip, his thumb rubbing her clit through the fabric. “Aaaah,” she breathed. “So...more.”

Killian only paused long enough to ditch their remaining clothes. Then he pulled Emma up to her knees, kissing her deeply. “Touch me,” he commanded softly. “Love when you touch me too, Emma.”

Emma dragged her hands over his torso, pausing to flick his nipples with her thumbs, fingertips tracing the line of his muscles. They kissed, slowly, thoroughly, hands wandering. He hissed when her fingers brushed his cock; it quickly melted into a groan that made her clit throb. She curled her small hands around it and stroked from root to tip, smearing precum with her thumb. He rolled his hips into her hands, his own hand sliding between her thighs.

“Oh!” she cried.

“Don't stop,” he pleaded. His lips trailed over her collar, free hand smoothing over the curve of her ass. He squeezed and she mewled. She paid him back in kind, adding a teasing smack for good measure. Killian growled dangerously. His instincts were screaming at him, the need to bury himself in her heat nearly unbearable. Emma shivered, more wetness pooling between her thighs.

Emma rocked her hips over probing fingers, coating them with her slickness. “I need...fuck, I need you, Killian.”

“Emma...bloody hell.” He remembered to snag a condom from the nightstand, but only just. He wondered if they should talk about that in the near future. God knows, all he wanted was her.

She took it from him and rolled it on. Killian eased her onto her back, and snatched a pillow to shove under her hips. She spread her legs, exposing her glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. He stared at her for a long moment, his love for her nearly overwhelming. He kissed her bent knee, then the other, taking one of her hands in his. With the other he pushed into her wet welcoming heat, sighing at the pleasure. Emma bit her lip, trying to contain her own moan.

He went slowly, keeping her spread, reveling being inside her again. He never wanted to take her for granted or the trust that she showed him. Emma was soon writhing, needing more friction, pleading. Killian rubbed her clit with his thumb, coating it with more of her wetness.

She was so close already, the thick slow glide of his cock along her walls threatening to drive her mad. She teetered on the edge, her hand tightening around his almost painfully before she fell, panting for breath, her skin a rosy pink.

Killian closed his eyes, trying to maintain his focus, still moving slowly as she came down. He bent low over her, drawing both of her hands above her head, hips moving just a little faster. Emma mewled loudly; Jesus Christ, he was going to make her come again. She could feel the coil tightening already, hard on the heels of the first. She rolled her hips to meet him, no longer content to be passive while he fucked her. He sank even deeper; he bit out her name like a curse. Emma dragged her head off the bed and captured his parted lips in a kiss, nipping at lips, chin, stubbled jaw, whatever she could reach.

Killian gritted his teeth, brow beaded with sweat. He grabbed one of her legs and tucked it over his shoulder, still bending low over her. Emma was nearly wild under him; he found her g spot and she cried out in ecstasy.

“Come, Emma,” Killian panted. “Again for me.”

Emma dug her blunt nails into the skin of his hand and shoulder, then she was falling, falling, falling; her body shuddering for the force of her climax. Killian got dragged under with her, forehead resting on her shoulder as his hips went still. He pulsed deep within her, surrendering completely to the high.

It took his remaining strength to roll off, vaguely aware that her contorted position must be uncomfortable. Killian scrubbed his hands over his eyes, breathing heavily. Emma lay there panting as well, wondering how on earth Killian was real. He drew these feelings out of her so effortlessly...like her body was a canvas he was painting. He'd told her once about an anecdote attributed to Michaelanglo, about his sculptures. That the statue was already in the stone, he was merely bringing it forth, freeing it. That's what it felt like Killian did for her. Freed her.

Emma was quiet for a long time, Killian started getting concerned. “Emma?”

“Hey.”

“Still with me?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled, then rose to clean himself up. He was halfway to the bathroom, when he paused. “Would you enjoy a bath?”

Emma propped her head in her hand. “Like in the tub?” She'd been eyeing that tub for a while; she'd never gotten the nerve to ask.

“The shower is rather cramped.”

She grinned. “Okay.” She snatched Killian's phone off the nightstand and followed him into the bathroom. “Mind if we play some music?”

“Whatever tickles your fancy, love.”

Emma leaned against the edge of the sink and pulled up his Pandora app. She still had the free version with the annoying ads, which is why she picked his phone. “I think you missed a call,” she said as the tub filled.

“Who was it?”

“Your brother.”

Killian frowned, taking the device from her. He did the mental calculation in his head. “Blimey, it's late there. I wonder what he wanted?” There was no message left.

“What is the time difference?”

“London is five hours ahead of us. Which makes it well after midnight. Probably just wanted to harangue me about the holidays again.”

“The holidays?”

Killian handed her back the phone and went to shut off the water. “Liam's been after me to go home for a visit at Christmas,” he explained. “Molly's added her pleas now as well.”

Emma took in the well filled tub; he was giving her a bubble bath. Damn, she loved him. “Do you not want to go home?” she asked, setting the phone on the nearby ledge. She'd turned on some light classical music so they could talk and not get distracted.

Killian stepped into the tub and motioned for her to follow. She pinned up her braid and got in; the water was just the right side of hot. She groaned in appreciation as she leaned back against his chest. “I didn't at first,” he said finally. “Too many painful memories, even though seeing my family would be nice. But now...”

“What?”

“Well, I have you now,” he said as if it were obvious. He swallowed, his arms loose around her middle. “I didn't want to presume. You've got your own family.”

Emma laid her head on his shoulder. “I haven't even thought...it gets pretty deserted around here; Granny lets me spend most of break at home. But I'd like to meet your brother.”

“We don't have to decide anything now. We still have the Thanksgiving holiday.”

“That's a long weekend.”

“Which I assume you usually spend with Ingrid?”

“Yeah. I guess I still will, huh? She can't know about you yet.” Emma kissed the nearest patch of skin, sighing. Even on the days they couldn't be alone, they either spoke or saw each other in class. That would be impossible with her so far away. Perhaps by then their yearning will have calmed a little.

“Decide how you're going to tell her yet?”

Emma laughed. “Not a chance. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

They lapsed into silence but it wasn't uncomfortable. They merely relaxed in the water and enjoyed each other's company. She could never do something like this with Neal. He hated sitting still too long. It took her far too long to figure out why.

Emma was startled out of her doze by a ringing phone.  _Killian's_ ringing phone. He cursed under his breath and snatched a hand towel to dry his hand enough to answer it. He was floored when he saw who it was. “Liam? Are you insane? It's after one in the morning!”

“Here not there. Were you asleep, little brother?”

Killian gnashed his teeth. “No, I was not. Just finished a ruddy shower, thank you very much.” It was sort of true. It involved water at any rate.

Emma held his other hand under the water. “What's going on?” she mouthed.

Killian shrugged. “So is there a reason you're ringing me in the middle of the night?”

“I rang earlier.”

“Must have missed it. Does this call have a point?”

“Need to get back to your girlfriend?” Liam chuckled.

Killian felt a stab of panic, but Emma hadn't made a sound. “I've told you...”

“I know, there is no girl. Whatever, Killian. Listen, I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor that couldn't wait until morning?”

“Molly won't let me back into bed until I've asked you.”

“What?!” Killian cried. “What did you do? Or is this a case of pregnancy hormones?”

“I hope it's the latter,” Liam said heavily. “Anyway, she wanted to know if you would be so kind as to...create something for the baby's room. Like a drawing or something.”

Killian went very, very still. He never, ever expected his brother to ask him for something like this. To say he was honored would be an understatement. “Aye, I would be honored to do that. Does she have anything in mind?”

“She said she trusted you.”

Killian felt a rush of affection for his brother's wife. “I will do my best.”

“Thanks, Killian. This means a lot to both of us.”

“You're welcome, brother.” They hung up a few moments later. “That was Liam.”

“I gathered that.”

“He, uh, well, Molly actually...” Killian dropped the phone back on the ledge and ran his fingers through his hair. “They want me to draw something for their baby's room.”

Emma beamed. “Killian, that's amazing!” She splashed some water in her haste to turn around and hug him. She settled back down in his lap, facing him. “I'm sure it'll be great.”

“I hope so.”

“Hey, you are an amazing artist, Killian. That kid'll be lucky to have something from you. You'll see.”

Killian cupped her cheeks and drew her lips to his. He hoped that kiss conveyed the things he wanted to say. He loved her so much in that moment, his chest hurt.

Emma ran her thumb over the scar on his cheek fondly, smiling at him. She wanted to say something, to tell him how she felt, but she didn't want to break their bubble. “You know how I know I'm right?”

“How?”

_Because I'm in love with you._ “Because you only give your art to the people closest to you.”

Killian hugged her to his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “Speaking of art...”

“Hmm?”

“I do have a sketch that needs finishing.”

“You can finish it in class tomorrow. You don't _need_ me to pose.”

“No,” he conceded, toying with her braid. “But it does enhance the process.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “One sketch. Then sleep.”

“As you wish.”

* * *

She was late. Emma was supposed to meet her friends at one of their favorite bars for a little friendly down time. She'd seen precious little of any of them since she started seeing Killian. The only person aside from him that she saw with any consistency was Elsa. Emma loathed the idea of becoming so engrossed in her boyfriend that she didn't see anyone else. So when Mary Margaret called and said the gang was getting together, Emma agreed without too much persuasion. She dressed up a bit more than she usually would; she was planning on spending the night at Killian's after. No reason she couldn't do both.

She parked her Bug in the nearest garage to the bar and set off down the street. She pulled her scarf tighter against the cold. It was November now, winter for all intents and purposes. There was no snow yet; but this part of the state always got some. It was only a matter of time.

Emma ducked into the bar, sighing when she felt the heat. The place wasn't that busy yet, so she sidled up to the bar and ordered a beer, stripping off her coat and tucking it in the rungs of the stool. She carefully tucked her scarf in one of the pockets, then sat. It didn't appear that anyone was there yet. That was weird. She accepted her beer and took a healthy swig. It had been a while since Emma had been out with friends; she was excited. She found that she found pleasure in lots of little things these days, something that could only be attributed to Killian's presence. He was the only thing that was different.

After finishing her first beer, she started to get a bit worried. Mary Margaret was rarely late and Ruby never missed a chance to go drinking somewhere that wasn't Granny's. She grabbed her purse and dug out her phone.

“Sorry, are you Emma Swan?”

Emma turned her head so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“Emma Swan?” the guy asked again. He looked about her age, brown hair a bit too long (not in the roguish Killian way either), ill fitting button down shirt and slacks. And a Wizard of Oz themed tie. She got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Yeah,” she said, keeping her voice even. She didn't want to encourage him. “You are?”

The guy fidgeted, moving his weight from one foot to the other. “Hi. I'm Walsh Magnus. I'm a friend of Mary Margaret's?” He held out his hand for her to shake.

Emma shook reluctantly; the guy's hand was a bit clammy. Great, he was nervous. Which could only mean this was a blind date. Her _friend_ had set her up on a blind date! What was she thinking?! “Hi, Walsh. It's nice to meet you.”

Walsh smiled and sat on the stool next to her. “I gather Mary Margaret didn't mention me?”

Emma let out a dry chuckle. “No, not exactly.”

“So the dress isn't for me then.”

Emma looked down at her low cut dress. “I thought I was meeting everyone for some friendly drinking. Sorry.” The dress was for her boyfriend but she couldn't tell him that. Damn secrets.

“Well, you still can drink,” Walsh said brightly. “Can I get you something?”

Emma held up her second beer. “I'm good right now. But thanks.”

Even that didn't deter him. Walsh merely ordered himself the same beer and started rambling about himself. Emma nodded occasionally and forced a smile or two. She was frantically trying to figure out how to ditch him without seeming rude. She knew in her heart Mary Margaret meant well, even if she wasn't already happy with Killian, Walsh wasn't at all her type. He seemed charming, but Emma could detect a faint air of insincerity behind it. She needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Um, I'm gonna run to the ladies room. Could you watch my coat?”

“Sure.”

Emma snatched her purse and hurried off. The ladies room was in the very back of the dimly lit bar; she had to dodge a couple of guys playing darts to get there. Once she was in the stall, she called Elsa.

“Emma? What's up?”

“I need you to call me back in about five minutes.”

“Why?”

“Remember that friendly get together?”

“Yeah, sorry I couldn't make it.”

“Yeah, well, you're not missing anything since it was really a blind date for me.”

“What?!”

“Mary Margaret thought it was a brilliant idea to set me up with one of her classmates.”

“What did you do?”

“Right now, I'm in the bathroom, trying to ditch him. Which is why I need you.”

“To call you in five minutes,” Elsa said, catching on.

“Right. Call, ignore anything I say to you. I'm going to Killian's as soon I'm out of here.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Emma hung up and exited the stall. She washed her hands quickly and left the restroom. She meandered her way back to her stool, not in any particular hurry. She so didn't want to hear Walsh's plans to start his own furniture store.

“Everything okay?” Walsh asked when she got back.

“Yeah, fine.”

“I ordered you another beer,” he said, taking a swig of his.

“Um, thanks.” She only pretended to take a sip; she wasn't drunk yet (not after two beers) but she wasn't taking any chances. Ingrid taught her a long time ago never to drink from something left unattended.

Walsh asked her a few things about herself...finally. Emma gave monosyllable answers, waiting with baited breath for her phone to ring. It did at last, “Defying Gravity” echoing from her purse. Emma muttered and apology and answered, turning her back to Walsh.

“What is it, Elsa?” Emma asked harshly. She wanted to give the impression that she wasn't happy to have her impromptu date interrupted. Elsa laughed softly on the other end. “You got _what_ on my laptop? God damn it. No, no, I'll be right there. There still might be a way to save the damn thing. If not, you're buying me a new one.” Emma ended the call and turned to face Walsh. “I'm _really_ sorry about this. My roommate got some of her paint on my laptop. She's an artist. I've got to go, possibly to kill her.” She forced a laugh, hoping Walsh got the joke.

Walsh snatched something out of his pocket and scribbled on it with a nearby pen. “I hope everything works out. I had fun, Emma.” He slipped her his number as he reached out to shake her hand. She was tossing it the first moment she got.

Emma nodded, shrugging into her coat. She left some money for her beers and waved casually as she left. The second she got outside, she chucked Walsh's number into the nearest trash can. She thought about calling Killian and letting him know she was on her way, but he already knew she was coming by. It seemed pointless. Plus she liked the idea of surprising him.

When she got there, however, the house appeared dark. Frowning, Emma got out of her Bug and walked around to the back. Usually when he knew she was coming, he left a light on and the door unlocked. Emma stepped up onto the small concrete patio, light filtering through the windows of the French doors. He was in his studio; Emma let out a sigh of relief. She knocked.

Killian cocked his head, wondering who in the hell would be knocking on his _back_ door. Grumbling, he got up and wiped his charcoal covered fingers on his old jeans. “Coming!” His jaw dropped when he opened the door. “Emma?”

“This a bad time?”

“I wasn't expecting you for hours, love.” He stepped back hastily and let her in; it was freezing out. He took in her rosy cheeks and bouncing ponytail. “But I am happy to see you.” He helped her slip out of her coat and was surprised again when he saw her dress. It was a deep emerald, two long pieces of gathered cloth criss crossing her torso, skirt flaring out past her knees. She twirled about, pleased at his stunned expression.

“You like it?”

Killian swallowed. “Aye. But now I feel even worse for not greeting you properly.” He was there in an old t-shirt and jeans; surely there was streaks of charcoal staining his clothes. He looked like the epitome of the starving artist compared to her.

Emma frowned. “Killian, I didn't mean...”

“No, it's not you. You are a vision.” He bent quickly to kiss her lips. “I had intended to change before you got here, was all I meant.”

Emma toyed with the cotton of his shirt. “I don't mind. I like it.” This was Killian in his element, creating something beautiful. She smiled and pulled him down for a longer, sweeter kiss. “I like _you_ in case you haven't noticed.”

He smirked. “I may have done. Perhaps you should remind me?”

Emma worried her lip between her teeth, a grin breaking out on her face. This was so much better than random blind date guy. She stepped deeper into his space, her hands sliding up over his shoulders. Her heels made them very nearly equal in height. She brushed featherlight kisses to his lips, nose, cheeks, lids, weaving her fingers into his soft hair. Killian's hands rested lightly on her waist; he was trying not to get her dirty. She found his lips again; he surrendered willingly, her tongue slipping past his lips, tangling with his.

One hand found its way to her hair, curling around her ponytail, angling her head in a new way, deepening the kiss. Emma moaned, holding him tighter, a zing of want already rushing through her.

“God, I love kissing you, lass,” Killian muttered when they finally broke for air.

“I'm rather fond of it too,” she said with a teasing laugh. She stole a tiny peck. “Believe me now?”

His fingertip lightly traced the curve of her cheek. “I never doubted you for a second.”

Emma leaned into his touch. “Really though, did I come at a bad time?”

Killian shook his head. “Not really. I was just trying my hand at something for the baby.”

“May I see?”

“It's not really anything substantial. I haven't been able to decide on anything.” He plucked at a piece of her dress. “Was your little party not everything you hoped?”

Emma scowled. “Worse. Mary Margaret decided it would be a great idea to set me up on a blind date.”

Killian opened his mouth, then shut it again. He tightened his hold on her; she did the same with him, he noticed. “And you came here?”

“Well, I was coming anyway and I certainly wasn't going to give the guy any encouragement.”

Killian kissed her brow. “How did you get away?”

“I couldn't outright say I had a boyfriend, so I hatched a little plan with Elsa. Worked like a charm. And here I am.”

Killian sighed. “This is my fault.”

“How do you figure? Mary Margaret tricked me!”

“Aye, but if we didn't have to stay hidden your friend wouldn't have tried to set you up.”

“Hey, there was no harm done. I'm going to have a stern talk with her on Monday.”

“Why Monday?”

“So I can spend the rest of the weekend with you.”

He gathered her in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. “I just wish I could take you out on a proper date. You deserve that. Not being holed up in my house all the time.”

“I like your house. And I don't mind having you to myself without distractions.”

“Still, I want to take you out. Dinner. A movie. Perhaps even dancing. Where everyone can see how amazing you are.”

Emma blushed. “Or a drink at a bar where we can play pool?”

“Aye, that would be an interesting evening.”

“You any good?”

He cocked a brow at her. “I suppose you'll just have to wait to find out.”

“It's a date.”

She seemed happy but the frustration still gnawed at him. He'd find a way for them to go out. Soon. “Come sit with me, love.” He led her over to his easel, sitting on the stool.

“Killian, what...?”

“Here.” He helped her into his lap, her weight on his left leg.

Emma noticed the full length mirror over to the right. “Where did that come from?”

“Bought it today. Thought I'd try a self portrait.”

“How'd it go?”

“I...not as well as I hoped. Perhaps you could help me.”

“We've been through this; I'm not an artist.”

He pressed the charcoal into her hand. “Humor me?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine.” He got them a clean sheet and lifted Emma's hand to the page. They worked together, their joined hands moving slowly over the page. “What are we drawing?” she whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” he whispered back, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling.

“I don't want to mess it up,” she whispered, a little indignant.

“Trust me, you won't. I've got you.”

Emma continued to look at the page skeptically. Killian guiding her to make a vase was one thing. This was _his_ world; she was merely an observer. She didn't want to ruin his work with her clumsiness. Gradually shapes became distinct and Emma realized what they were drawing. It was _them_ as reflected in the mirror. Her breathing hitched, Killian's other hand tightening on her hip.

“Killian,” she whispered, as they filled in some of the details of her dress.

“Hmm?”

She squirmed a little in his lap. She could see the flush on her chest in the mirror; it was impossible to be this close to him and not be affected by him. “I thought you said you couldn't do self portraits.”

“I didn't sat that precisely. I said that mine weren't as good as I hoped. Seems all I needed was my beautiful muse.”

Emma turned away from the drawing and pressed her lips to his temple. Then his ear, tongue licking the shell. She was rewarded with a groan. “Can we finish later?”

Killian swallowed. He was already semi hard with her in his lap but her actions sent his remaining blood _south._ “Do you have a better idea, love?”

Emma lowered the charcoal and gently cupped his cheeks with her hands. She pressed her lips to his, earning her another moan. Killian furiously wiped his fingers on his pants so he didn't sully her dress. He chased her lips when she broke for air, nibbling on her pouting lower lip and hoisting her more firmly in his lap. Her skirt twisted around her legs and she yanked it free, spreading it over his knees like a blanket. Killian left open mouthed kisses down her exposed throat, chest, soft swells of her breasts. Emma keened, hands anchored behind his neck as she leaned back.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous,” he breathed, the tip of his nose dragging up the valley of her breasts. He dragged one of the straps down, mouthing eagerly as her stiff nipple. Emma cried out, holding him to her, every lick and nip making her core clench. Her panties were nearly soaked, heat rising, throbbing, pulsing between her legs.

“Killian...oh...oh god.” She started this with a semi formed plan, but of course he would make this about her pleasure. He got off on that just as much as his own. Emma forced his lips back to hers, kissing him hard on the mouth. “Let me.” She got off his lap and sank to the floor, her skirt providing cushion on the hard floor. She moved her fingers under his t-shirt, dragging it up, up, up, until they pulled it over his head. She kissed down his chest, following the trail to the waistband of his pants.

“Emma...Christ...” She nuzzled him; she could feel the hardness though the old denim. She popped the button and lowered the zip, frustrated by his boxers. Killian stood and let her strip him; he sat back on the stool nude as she knelt between his legs in her pretty dress. She slid her hands over his thighs, creeping closer and closer to where he wanted her. She ran her thumbs over the length of his cock, earning her a deep groan. “Bloody hell...”

She smiled up at him then kissed the tip. Her mouth moved lower, kissing and licking, leaving him panting. “Like that?”

Like it? She was a goddess at his feet. “Don't stop.”

Emma flashed him another smirk, then took him into her mouth. Killian bucked his hips, unprepared for the warm wet perfection. He gritted his teeth, settling back down, allowing her free reign. She took him a little deeper each stroke, fist curling around what she couldn't take in. She hummed around him, squeezing her thighs together, desperate for friction herself. She licked and laved, teased the slit, swirled her tongue around the sensitive head. Killian had a hand around her ponytail again, needing some kind of anchor. She worked him until he brushed the back of her throat, when he pulled her away with a pop.

“Don't...want to come...like that,” he panted. “Fuck.”

Emma licked her lips, rising to her feet. She held out her hand. Killian took it and she guided them to the bench that they made love on for the first time. He stood there as she eased the dress off her shoulders; it fell in an emerald pool on the floor. She wore matching green lacy boy shorts; Killian's breathing hitched. He couldn't believe that she was his.

Emma took his hand again, placing both of his hands on her waist. She already kicked off her heels, losing her height equality. But she liked it when this gorgeous man loomed over her, tall and dark and _hers._ Killian bent his head, kissing her, dragging her to him by the waist, just as she wanted. Emma skimmed her hands up his back, knees going slightly weak from his kiss. Killian backed them the rest of the way to the bench, lowering them down and covering her with his body. No matter how often they made love, they never lost the thrill of being skin to skin, her curves pressed against the hard planes of his body.

Emma rolled them to the side, still exploring with eager hands. Killian worried one of her nipple between his teeth, biting down, and she keened, her cry echoing a little in the room. She was hot and slick and _empty_ and fuck, she just needed him inside her.

“Killian...please... _shit_...tell me you've got...”

He knew exactly what she was going to ask. He cut her off with a kiss. “Don't go away.”

Emma stayed there, panting for breath, swiveling her head to see where he went. Killian tore open a drawer and extracted a foil pack. He had condoms in his studio now? He returned to her but not before turning the mirror to face them again. “Killian?”

He knelt on the edge of the bench pressing the pack into her hand. Then he laid her back and kissed down her stomach and peeled her underwear off with his teeth. “I want you to see us,” he murmured, kissing her inner thighs. “Please?”

Emma dragged him back up by his hair; she was willing to do nearly anything to feel him in her again. And she had to admit the idea intrigued her. She deftly sheathed him and nodded. “Yes.”

Killian growled and sat up, placing himself more firmly on the bench. He had Emma face away from him, kneeling, hands braced on the edge of the bench. Killian moved so he was against her back, hand gently tipping her face toward the mirror. “Watch.”

Emma looked, taking in the sight of them naked. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her pupils blown wide with want. Their skin was flushed, Killian's hips rocking against her ass. Emma sucked in a breath, watching him move, ease her legs just a little wider and...she cursed, fighting the urge to close her eyes as he pressed into her. Emma bit her lip, a moan escaping. Killian pushed deeper, filling her up.

“Fuck yes,” Emma breathed, feeling him fully sheathed. “Oh god.”

Killian shuddered with the effort to let her adjust; she was so tight like this, it felt like he was going to burst. He pulled her back against his chest, gently rocking into her. “Watch us, darling,” he whispered in her ear. “So hot.”

Emma watched, holding his hand over her heart as they moved together, bodies completely in sync. She had this irrational fear of ruining the moment if she made a sound, but Killian wanted to hear her. Soon she couldn't help it, his thrusts hitting her just right, fingers on her clit. She cried out his name, trying to _move_ , to shut her eyes and just _feel._

Killian wished they could stay this way, locked together in an exquisite dance, but he couldn't last much longer. The sight of them like this was making his brain short circuit; she was too hot, too tight, absolutely perfect. He bent her toward the arm of the bench again, thrusts getting rougher. Emma pushed back with his hips, silently begging for more. Killian bent over her, hips thrusting madly, fingers dancing over her clit.

Emma gasped. “I'm gonna...oh...oh...so close...more, more, more... _yes!_ ”

Her walls constricted around him, fluttering, milking him dry as he whispered her name over and over. His hips stuttered and went still with him still splayed across her back. Killian rested his sweat soaked forehead against her equally damp skin, one hand gently stroking her stomach. It took him a moment or two to collect himself, then he eased off her and headed for the trash. When he returned, Emma was curled on her side.

“Room for one more?”

Emma scooted over. “I think so.”

Killian snatched a spare wool blanket and covered them as he settled in behind her. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Where'd the blanket come from?”

“I usually keep a spare here in the winter time. It sometimes gets chilly.”

“I like it. It smells like you.”

Killian smiled, wrapping an arm around her middle. “Like the way I smell?”

“Mmhmm. Even before I knew it was you.”

“How's that?”

“My robe in class? It's yours, right?”

Killian felt himself blushing. “I didn't know you'd noticed that.”

“I didn't until our first time in here. But it was really sweet of you.”

“You're welcome.”

They were silent for a long time, just basking in the afterglow. The bench really was too cramped for them, but Killian decided to give it a little more time before suggesting they move to the bedroom. He liked Emma cradled against him like this. “Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Emma rolled over in his arms. He rearranged the blanket to cover her. “You have condoms in your studio,” she said.

He stared at her. “I believe that was more of a statement than a question, lass.”

She rolled her eyes. He was being deliberately obtuse. “You don't think it's weird that you've now got condoms in your studio?”

He smoothed some hair back into her ponytail. “I've got them in a lot of places now, Emma.” He decided it was prudent, since they often didn't make it to the bedroom. He wasn't sure where she was going with this, but he didn't want to push her in any certain direction. As always, next steps were up to her.

She toyed with some hair on his chest. “Do you think we should talk about that?”

“Should we? What exactly are you asking me?”

Emma swallowed and looked him in the eye. She could do this. She wanted to do this. “Well, we're not seeing anyone else, right?”

“Not unless you count Mr. Blind Date,” he snarked.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Definitely not. Ugh. So not my type.”

“You've got type?”

“Tall, dark, handsome, foreign. Oh and he's got to be an artist,” she retorted with a grin.

Killian grinned back. “You were saying?”

“Right. I've, um, been on birth control since I was eighteen.” She pointed to the tiny scar on her arm. “Ingrid insisted when I started college. Which...smart, okay. I had my last check up over the summer and I haven't been with anyone but you since and...” She trailed off. God, she must sound like an idiot to him.

“Emma...are you saying what I think you're saying? Because we don't have to. Don't ever think I am not perfectly happy with you, just like this.”

“But you said you wanted to take me out.”

“On a _date_ , lass. Other than not being able to stand beside you in public, I am happy. I promise you.”

Emma searched his eyes. She knew he was telling the truth. But she wanted to take this step with him. It felt right. “I'm happy too, but I...I want this. With you.” _I love you_. The words were on tip of her tongue, so close. She really needed to stop being a coward soon and just tell him.

He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. “I will admit the idea has crossed my mind once or twice, but I really am content to wait. I just want you.”

“And if I'm not content to wait?”

“Emma, that's a huge step. I can go take the tests if you wish, but promise me you'll think about it until then? If you still want to, then we will.”

Emma nodded. “Okay. Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Let's find a way to go on that date.”

“Done.” He smiled, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her. Each moment he spent with her made him want that elusive future he daydreamed about. He sincerely hoped they would get it.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Emma asked Mary Margaret to meet her for lunch on Monday. It was a bit of an unusual request, but she wanted to nip this blind date thing in the bud before it got out of hand. The trick would be to do it without coming off as suspicious. She didn't think it would be too hard; she really did have a lot of homework. She was giving up her lunchtime break between Killian's classes to have this conversation, time she could be working.

She grabbed a couple of pizza slices and a cookie, then went to find a table. She propped the outline for one of her papers against her water bottle, figuring it could only help. Perhaps if she finished early she could go back to the library; there were some references she wanted to check again. Only a little over three weeks worth of classes yet, so she needed to get a move on.

“This seat taken?”

Emma looked up, relieved it was Mary Margaret. “Nope. Have a seat.”

The petite dark haired woman shrugged off her coat and settled in across from her with her own tray piled high with some kind of salad. “Well, I know that look, Emma. You're mad.”

Emma paused with a slice of pizza halfway to her mouth. “I'm not mad exactly.” Although she had been. “More like wondering why in the hell you thought that little stunt was a good idea.”

Mary Margaret frowned. “Did you not have fun? Walsh said he gave you his number.”

Emma tried not to scowl but failed utterly. “For someone who has her own love life all figured out, you are totally clueless about men.”

“He's nice!”

“To you, maybe. You're with David, you're...safe, so to speak.” Emma bit off a large bite of her pizza and chewed to get her thoughts together. “You know he spent most of our very limited time talking about himself? If he's waiting for me to call, he's gonna be waiting for a long time. I chucked it as soon as I left!”

Mary Margaret looked a bit hurt. “I thought...after Halloween...” She bit her lip. “You looked like you were having so much fun with...whoever that was, the pirate guy. I thought maybe you wanted to try dating again.”

Emma carefully kept her face neutral, even though her heart thudded in her chest. She'd had an amazing time with Killian that night. “I just don't have room in my life for dating, Mary Margaret. I'm swamped with work. Elsa had to beg me for like two weeks to go to that party. You can ask her, I'm hardly ever home these days. If I'm not working one of my _two_ jobs, I'm doing homework. But I was hoping to spend the evening with my friends,” she said pointedly. “Not get fixed up on a blind date.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Has that sentence ever led anywhere good?”

Mary Margaret cracked a tiny smile. “True.

“I've got enough credits now that I can probably ease up next semester, fill in a few electives. We can hang out more then?” Emma said hopefully. She really did like Mary Margaret; it would be their last semester all together. And she could finally include her boyfriend, which would make the woman across from her happy. And Emma too.

“I'd like that. I've been saying for years you work too hard, Emma.”

“You know I want to go to law school.”

“I know and that's great, but surely there's room to have a life too?”

_I'm working on that._ “I'll get back to you on that. Just promise me no more blind dates?”

Her friend nodded. “Okay. No more blind dates. But there's someone out there for you, Emma! I just know it!”

Emma really had to work to stop from smiling. If Mary Margaret only knew. They chatted about other things, getting caught up on all the friendly gossip since Emma had spoken to her last. David was going home with Mary Margaret over the semester break, to meet her parents.

“What are you plans?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma shrugged. “I'm not sure yet. I usually go home and see Ingrid, help out at the ice cream shop.”

“More work?”

Emma cocked a brow at her friend. “Some of us have to work.” Mary Margaret's family was fairly well off; she didn't have to take out student loans for school. She did have a part time job at one of the local preschools but that was just because she had a soft spot for kids. Mary Margaret was planning on being a teacher, something Emma knew her parents weren't crazy about.

“No old boyfriends to see?”

Emma frowned. “I, uh, didn't really date in high school.”

“You haven't dated much in college either. Except Neal. What a jerk. You definitely deserve better than that.”

“We can't all find our Prince Charmings on the first try, Mary Margaret.”

She blushed. “Who says David was my first?”

Emma's eyes widened. “You mean he  _wasn't?”_

The other woman's blush deepened. “For  _that,_ yes. He was. But I did have a boyfriend in high school. Just one!”

“Does David know?”

“Of course he does. But it wasn't until I met David that I understood what real love was like,” Mary Margaret said thoughtfully.

Emma glanced away, nervous. She was pretty sure she understood what her friend meant. What she felt for Neal was a pale imitation of what she feels now for Killian. It had all happened so quickly, but her gut told her it was the real thing. She didn't need anymore proof than the intimate conversation they had just the other night. Emma figured most guys would jump at the chance to have condomless sex, but Killian wanted her to be sure. To think about it. Because he cared about her. Maybe even loved her.

She swallowed, chewing on her lip. Did he love her? In that moment, there was nothing she wanted more. She knew she loved him.

She didn't get to see much of Killian the rest of the week. She had shifts at the diner Monday, Tuesday _and_ Wednesday night. Emma had a feeling it was to make up for her extra Sundays off lately. Granny hadn't asked, but Emma knew it wouldn't be wise to push it. If she asked Ruby to cover for her again, she might start asking awkward questions. Thankfully, she had Thursday off, so she used the opportunity to get caught up on some homework.

Emma hunched over her own laptop—thankfully paint free—typing. She was nearly finished the first draft of her paper (she'd been working on it off and on for a week); she just needed a conclusion. She chewed on her tongue, thinking.

“Hungry, Emma?” Elsa asked.

“In a minute. I just want to finish this bit.” She barely glanced up; she could smell Elsa's meal from here. “Is that reheated lasagna from Granny's?” she asked absently.

“Yeah, I didn't feel like cooking.”

“This town would explode if they knew she froze it,” Emma said, chuckling.

“You'll just have to take her secret to the grave,” Elsa quipped. “Hurry up; it's worse if you reheat it too many times.”

“Almost....done!” Emma cried, hitting save. She shut the laptop with a flourish and followed Elsa into the kitchen. Her stomach growled. “What are you working on?”

Elsa scooped a portion of lasagna onto her plate. “Trying to decide which sculpture I want to do for my final,” she said. “Want to help?”

Normally, Emma would have scoffed. But she was learning to trust her instincts when it came to art. “Sure.”

“Wow, what's gotten into you?”

Emma shrugged. “Hanging out with Killian, I guess.”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you 'hang out,'” she said, using her quote fingers.

“We do!” Emma protested. “He cooks for me. He shows me his art. We watch movies. He bought an old potter's wheel so we could make a vase together!”

“And you have a lot of sex,” Elsa said matter of factly.

Emma scowled, moving back to the dining room table. “So what?”

“Emma, I didn't mean that as a bad thing! Look at you! You're practically glowing!”

“I do not glow.”

Elsa's merry laugh echoed in the small dining room. “Believe what you want.”

“It's kinda hard when my best friend implies that I only love my boyfriend because he's hot,” she said petulantly. Then her eyes widened. Did she really just say that?

Silence reigned for a long minute. “Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“You love him?”

Emma looked up from her plate. “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

Elsa beamed. “That's wonderful! I'm really happy for you, Emma. I didn't mean to imply that Killian doesn't have other very fine qualities. He likes  _you_ after all.”

“Neal liked me too. Or I thought he did.”

Elsa shook her head. “I saw you together at Halloween. If Killian's not head over heels in love with you, I'll eat that stuffed snowman Anna bought me.”

“Do you think anyone else noticed?”

Elsa took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Probably not. Only a handful of people even knew you were there. And I was the only one who knew Killian would be there. You just looked...really cozy.”

Emma took a bite of her food. “Mary Margaret saw. At least she saw enough to think I'd like to try dating again.”

“Well, she was right. Sort of. You just beat her to the punch by finding a finding a great guy all by yourself.”

Emma laughed. “I guess you're right.”

She was about to go back for seconds when her phone rang. Killian's sleepy face blinked up at her. She'd snatched that picture a couple of weeks ago while he was sleeping. It was adorable. “Hey.”

“Evening, love.”

“How was your day?”

“Long. Yours?”

“Same. I finished the first draft of my first paper though.”

“One down, one to go?”

“Something like that.” Emma smiled to herself; Elsa was beaming again so she stopped. How was it that just hearing his voice over the phone filled her with joy?

“Are you free Saturday night?”

Emma's brow knitted in confusion. “Um, yeah?” She was already planning on spending it as his house after her day shift at the diner, which he very well knew.

“Would you like to go out on a date with me, Emma?”

She laughed.  _Dork._ “I would love to go out on a date with you, Killian.”

“Pick you up at seven?”

“You want to come here?” They had decided it wasn't wise for him to come by her place in case anyone recognized him. Plus she had a roommate.

“Only to pick you up. I'll even be your chauffeur until Monday, if you like.”

“Wow, full service. I like it,” she teased.

“There will be _plenty_ of servicing going on, love.”

She walked right into that one. Still, she blushed. Especially if everything went well with Killian's tests. But she didn't want to mention them in front of Elsa. “Think you're gonna get lucky on the first date?”

“Ah, technically, it's our third date. And we crossed that threshold long ago.”

“I look forward to crossing it many more times.”

Killian growled softly. “Minx.”

“You love it.”

“Aye, I do. See you tomorrow, love?”

“Yeah. Don't be late.”

“Good night, Emma.”

“Night, Killian.”

Elsa squealed as soon as she hung up. “You guys are so  _cute!_ ” she cried happily.

“I'm glad we amuse you,” Emma deadpanned.

Elsa didn't stop smiling. “Emma, you're like a sister to me. I just want you to be happy. And Killian  _obviously_ makes you happy.”

“I'm telling Mary Margaret to set you up on the blind date next time.”

“You wouldn't!”

Emma grinned mischievously. “No, I wouldn't. But maybe you should test the waters a bit too.”

“Emma Swan, matchmaker?”

“Hell no. I've got my hands full already.” They both laughed, hard.

* * *

Elsa waited until she saw Emma break off and head for the library. Her friend actually _winked_ at her secret boyfriend as they parted on the sidewalk. Elsa hid a smile; it truly warmed her heart to see Emma so happy, even if it was a secret. She watched as Killian walked to the building where his office was; Elsa ducked from around her corner to follow him.

She trusted Emma's judgment, but Elsa would be remiss if she didn't have a word with the teacher herself. She'd witnessed Emma's depression and withdraw after Neal's perfidy was discovered. Elsa felt it was her duty as a good friend to give Killian the appropriate warning.

She stayed a good distance back and waited until he entered his office. Then she counted to ten and walked up, rapping smartly on the door jam.

“Come in.”

Elsa stepped into the office. She'd only been there once, when she took Killian's class. She felt strange, here under these circumstances. “Hi, Professor Jones.”

Killian looked up. “Oh, Elsa...Miss Arendelle. I, uh, well, it's definitely a surprise, lass.”

Elsa nodded. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Killian leaned back in his chair. “I've got a few minutes. Perhaps you should close the door.” Elsa did and sat in the free chair. “So what did you wish to discuss?”

“I think we both know what I'm here to say, Professor Jones.”

Killian scratched behind his ear nervously. The lass had an icy glare he didn't quite remember. “Given the circumstances, you should probably call me Killian, lass.”

Elsa nodded. “Okay, Killian.” She paused, wondering how to phrase what she wanted to say. “I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate the trust you and Emma have in me. She's my best friend, a sister really. I would never betray her.”

“Is this the part where you threaten me with bodily harm if _I_ betray her?”

“Do I need to?”

Killian's face grew serious. “Elsa, I would never willingly betray her trust. I don't know everything she's been through, but I know enough. This isn't some fling or whatever twisted scenario you've conjured in your head.” _I love her_ , he thought but didn't say. Those words were for Emma alone. “I'm in this for the long haul.”

Elsa didn't have Emma's lie detecting ability, but she believed him. The restrained earnestness and passion in his voice told her that she was right. He was head over heels for Emma. Elsa felt a tiny stab of jealousy pierce her heart. She didn't want Killian, but witnessing his love for her friend made her want that kind of love herself. Maybe Emma was right, after all.

She stood, maintaining her stern facade. It couldn't hurt to drive her point home. “Good. But if something happens...”

“You'll chase me with an ice pick. Message received, loud and clear.”

Elsa finally smiled. “She's really happy. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy.”

Killian smiled too. Those words warmed his heart. All he wanted was to make Emma happy. “I am too. Happy, I mean.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“We will. Thanks, Elsa.”

She nodded solemnly and left. Killian leaned his head against his desk, sighing heavily. He understood Elsa's concern. She was just looking out for her friend. He was glad Emma had someone like that. It also reminded him of his own relative isolation. He couldn't tell his brother about his new love yet, even though he wanted to. Their relationship was still forbidden. _One more month,_ he reminded himself, glancing at the calendar on his desk. In just under four weeks, they could be together openly, no more hiding.

* * *

Killian spent Saturday cleaning out his car and taking his best suit to the dry cleaners. Emma had already seen it at the art department party but it didn't matter. This was their first real date and he wanted it to be special. Emma deserved that. He also made another stop for flowers and a small gift he had for her.

At promptly 6:45 he got in his car and drove to Emma's apartment complex. He'd driven by it numerous times since he moved to the college town; it was very popular among the upperclassmen and graduate students, just far enough away from campus to be affordable. At one minute to seven he pulled into a spot and rang Emma.

“I'm on my way down,” she answered. “Just let me grab my purse.”

He was grinning like a fool; he couldn't help it. “I'll be waiting.”

She hurried outside, purse clutched in her fist. Her breath condensed the moment she stepped outside; it was getting very cold out these days. She was wearing a dress, he could tell that much, as her legs showed, long and pale. He turned up the heat just a bit for her.

The car door opened. “Hi,” Emma said hurriedly as she got in and slammed the door behind her. “Oh, it's nice and toasty in here. Thanks.”

“You're welcome, love.” He leaned across the seat and kissed her cheek. “I have something for you.” He held up a single red rose.

Emma smiled softly, accepting the flower. “It's beautiful, thank you.” She brought it to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent, incredibly touched by his thoughtfulness. Neal had only given her flowers when he needed something from her.

Killian watched her out of the corner of his eye as he backed out and headed for the road. “Switch the radio to anything you like,” he said. “We've got a little drive ahead of us.”

“Where are we going?” Emma asked, reaching for the dial. She'd been wondering since he asked her; all he would say was that she should dress up. Which she was planning on doing anyway. She and Elsa had gone emergency dress shopping Friday evening, wanting to make the occasion memorable.

“Well, there isn't much choice around here when it comes to fancy meals,” he said. “Plus there's our cover to consider. But I found us a little Italian bistro a couple towns over.”

“You didn't have to go to so much trouble.”

“I promised you a real date, lass. That includes a nice meal.”

Her eyes flickered back to the red rose. “Any plans for after dinner?”

“Many,” he said, smirking. “You'll just have to wait and see.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “How'd the doctor thing go?”

Killian almost missed a stop sign, stunned by her blunt question. That wasn't how he planned on bringing that up. “Fine, all things considered.”

“And?”

“All clear, lass.”

“Really?”

“You were expecting something else?” he asked pointedly.

Emma blushed, realizing how that must have sounded. “No, no, of course not. You said you would be, and I believed you.”

“And have you thought about the thing we discussed?”

Emma swallowed. “Yeah.” She reached over for his hand, covering it with hers. “I still want to.”

Killian shivered, but it was a good shiver. “I'm honored, Emma,” he said simply.

She beamed at him; it felt like more pieces falling into place for them. She wouldn't take this step unless she was absolutely sure how she felt about him. She loved him. Maybe this was the night to finally say it.

They arrived at the bistro ten minutes early for their eight o'clock reservation. Killian was right; it was small. But it didn't feel that way on the inside. Killian took her coat, swallowing audibly when he got the full view of her dress. It was strapless, red, had a skirt that fell to her knees. Her golden hair was fell around her face in soft waves.

“Love, you look... _stunning_.”

She smiled shyly. “You think so?”

“I have an eye for this sort of thing, remember?” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, I suppose you do.” She looped her arm through his as the waiter guided them to their table. It was over by the windows; there were two more roses in a vase on the table. Killian held out her chair for her. “Thanks.”

He tucked it under her and took his across from her after removing his jacket. “How am I doing so far, lass?”

“Romantic dinner, playing the gentleman. I'd say you're doing very well.”

“I am a gentleman, love.”

“I'm just teasing, Killian. This is amazing.”

He relaxed. He ordered them some wine then took her hand. “Thank you for coming out with me tonight, Emma.”

“I would have been just as happy at home, you know.”

“Home?”

There she went again with the slips. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I told you I liked your house. It's homey.” She didn't care where they were as long as they were together. She was perplexed when he frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”

Killian shook his head. “No, no. It's just...I was going to wait until after dinner. I've got a little gift for you.”

“We can still wait.”

He smiled. “Now's just a good a time as any.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small cardboard box. He placed it on the table and slid it over to her.

Emma looked at him curiously, then lifted the box. She shook it; something metallic rattled a bit inside.

“Is this how Christmas will be, lass? You shaking presents?” he chuckled, watching.

“Watch it, buddy.” She lifted the lid and gasped. “Is this...?” She held up the silver key. “Yours?”

“A key to my house, aye. I thought it was time you had one.”

Emma turned it over in her fingers. This was a big deal for her. She could still remember the day Ingrid gave her the key to their house, her first real home. Unbidden, tears formed in her eyes. “Emma?” Killian asked worriedly.

She sniffed. “I'm fine. Sorry.”

He frowned again. “You don't have to be fine. If I've upset you...”

“I'm really happy, Killian. I promise. It's just...” She took a deep breath. “This is your _home_. I didn't have one for so long and now...well, it feels like I've got three.”

He reached over and laced their fingers together. “Remember when I said I wanted to share everything with you?”

Emma nodded. That was the moment she decided to really take a chance and _be_ with him. To be all in and not run. “Still, this is a pretty big step.”

“We seem to be going through those rather quickly,” he observed with a small smile.

“Scared?” Emma retorted, trying to sound brave.

“Terrified. But I know my life is better with you in it, love.”

Emma wanted to say the hell with dinner and kiss him senseless, but she refrained. They had time for that later. He'd done so much to let them have a nice time. “Mine is too.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly, then let go. She plucked her keys from her purse and slipped his onto the ring. “Thank you, Killian.”

He relaxed back in his seat and motioned for their waiter. They ordered a couple of entrees, settling in for what he hoped would be a nice evening. It had been ages since he'd been out on a date.

It didn't feel like a first date, because they already knew each other so well. But they'd never had trouble talking to each other. Killian recapped his week for her, his struggle to find something appropriate for his little niece or nephew's nursery. Emma made a few suggestions, privately thinking he was putting too much pressure on himself. She knew what he was capable of.

“Elsa stopped by my office yesterday,” Killian said casually as their food arrived.

Emma blinked. “She did? Why?”

“She just wanted to assure herself of my intentions.”

“Your intentions?” Emma scowled. “I'm going to kill her.”

“Emma, she's just looking out for you. You can't fault her for that.”

Emma speared a piece of her chicken marsala and chewed furiously. “Yes, I can. It's my life. Just because I messed up with Neal...”

Killian looked at her sternly. “Whatever happened wasn't your fault, Emma. Sometimes we all put our trust where we shouldn't. Doesn't mean there's something wrong with you.”

Again, she wondered who his Neal was. Still, she felt the need to explain herself. “I didn't date in high school. It was hard for me to get to know people, even after I got adopted by Ingrid. I met Neal at a party. We hit off and he asked me out for coffee. He seemed to really like me.”

“He was your first love,” Killian said gently.

Emma took a sip of her wine. “Yeah. I mean, looking back now, I can see he was a bit sketchy. But I loved him.” Loved, past tense. Or what she thought was love. Looking at Killian now, she knew how wrong she'd been. “When they found the stolen tests answers in our dorm room, I confronted him. And you know what he did? He _laughed_ ,” she finished bitterly.

Killian's jaw clenched, furious at the way Emma had been treated. Anyone who took advantage of her goodness deserved to be thoroughly punished. “I'm so sorry, Emma.”

“Ingrid had to come and plead my case. I almost got expelled for being an accessory.”

Killian cursed the table that lay between them; he wanted to hold her. He knew what that kind of betrayal felt like. “Tell me the wanker got expelled.”

Emma nodded. “He did. I don't even know where he is now.”

“Good.” He took a bite of pasta, thinking. If Emma was brave enough to confess her past, perhaps it was time for him to do the same. He cleared his throat. “I met Milah when I was in art school,” he said slowly. Emma looked up; he was looking out the window. “She was older than me; she'd just left her husband to pursue her interest in art.” He laughed hollowly. “Or so I thought.”

“What happened?”

“I was young and trusting. She asked for my help and I gave it. I shared everything with her. Fast, too fast probably. She didn't have your restraint,” he said, giving her a knowing grin. Yeah, those weeks they fought their feelings were a real picnic. “Anyway, some of my work got chosen for display. At a real gallery; I even signed a contract to receive a commission if they sold any of it. I was a third year art student; it was practically unheard of. But my professor encouraged me.” Killian took a long pull of his wine. “When I went to take the pieces to the gallery, they were gone.”

Emma's eyes widened. “Oh my god. She _didn't_.”

Killian nodded. “All of them. Even the ones I wasn't intending to sell, the ones of her. Every finished piece was gone.”

“Killian, I am so sorry.”

“I found them, or some of them. She'd been a little too ambitious and claimed them as her own. Sold quite a few of them.”

“A forger?”

“Aye. I didn't want anything to do with that world, so I moved here right after graduation and started teaching.”

Emma didn't know what to say. Her heart broke for him. He put his heart and soul into every work of art he created and to have that _stolen_ and sold as someone else's work...Emma prayed she never met this woman because she was afraid she'd do something stupid. She reached over and squeezed his hand tightly. “I know it doesn't help, but I'm glad you came here.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “I am too, Emma.” He lowered her hand and picked up his wine glass. “To second chances?”

Emma smiled and grabbed hers, clinking them together. “Second chances.” They each drank, much happier smiles on their lips.

Talk moved on to much pleasanter topics. They got into a long winded discussion about Killian's recent foray into comics. After sitting through several different films with Emma, he decided to see what she found so appealing about them. He appreciated the art, the details that went into it. But he found he enjoyed the stories as well.

“I'll lend you my copy of _The Death of Superman,”_ Emma assured him. “Remind me to bring it next time I come over.”

“Liam would really think I've lost it, reading comics,” Killian chuckled. “A bit pretentious, my brother.”

“We'll just have to work on him then.” She took the last scoop of ice cream on their little plate. “I'm gonna head to the ladies room. Be right back.”

Killian nodded. “Don't be too long. I think I'm ready to take you home.”

Emma shivered. “Five minutes.” She grabbed her purse and hurried off.

Killian paid the bill and shrugged back into his jacket. Things got a bit heavy with their confessions, but all in all he thought the evening was a success. He was definitely looking forward to many more evenings with her.

“Jones? Is that you?”

Fear gripped him. He looked up at his visitor. It was one of his fellow professors, Robin Locksley. “Evening, Locksley.”

“You're out quite a piece!” Robin said jovially. He glanced at the second place setting. “Evening out with a lady friend? Good for you!”

He couldn't deny it; Emma's silverwear was used. He just hoped Robin didn't spot Emma. “Aye. We were just leaving.”

“My wife is here somewhere, why she chose this place, I've no idea. Bloody nightmare finding it. You have any trouble?”

Killian had to force himself not to look around for Emma. He shook his head. “GPS.”

“Ah, modern technology. It is a wonder. Well, see you, old chap!” He clapped Killian on the shoulder and headed over to the bar, ordering a drink. Killian got up and headed for the foyer, waiting for Emma. Her coat was there, so hopefully she'd know where to look for him.

She found him a minute later. “Killian, what's going on?”

He shook his head and helped her into her coat. Once she was bundled up, he hurried them out. It wasn't until they were in the car that he spoke. “Someone I know is in the restaurant.”

“What? Who?”

“Robin Locksley. He teaches wood working.”

“Do you think he saw us?”

“He discerned I was on a date, but he was looking for his wife. I don't think he put two and two together.” He described what Robin looked like.

Emma shook her head. “I didn't see him. I doubt he'd know me. I'm only in the art department for your classes.”

Killian started the car and started for home. “That was not how I planned on ending the evening.”

Emma felt a flash of fear in her stomach. “Ending?”

“You still want to go home with me?”

“We've had close calls before. I want to enjoy the rest of our night.”

He wanted to pull over and kiss her, but he'd have time for that when they got home. He settled for smiling at her. “I'd like that as well.”

The lingering tension from their close shave slowly dissipated. It was difficult to be too concerned, knowing what they had to look forward to when they got back to his place. Killian reached over and took her hand, his thumb idly stroking her wrist. Warmth spread from the simple touch; Emma wet her lips. She could almost feel the air around them change, becoming more charged, the tension building. She moved her hand to his thigh, casually inching her fingers up. She saw Killian swallow and adjust his seat. Her hand “slipped,” falling squarely between his legs. She could feel the heat radiating off him.

Killian didn't really remember much of the drive, or how he even managed to drive when Emma was driving him crazy. His trousers got tighter with every brush of her fingers; by the time they pulled into his driveway he was painfully hard and throbbing.

“Emma,” he growled, shutting off the engine.

She wet her lips again. “Something wrong?”

Killian forced his seat back and patted his lap. Emma giggled and shrugged off her coat, climbing over the armrests and settling in his lap. Killian cupped her face and brought her lips to his, kissing her hard. Emma mewled, arms locking around his neck, a jolt of lust shooting through her. They were still in his car where anyone could see them.

Emma paused only long enough to suck in a breath, diving back in eagerly. She could feel him hard and thick between her legs; soon she would truly know how he felt inside her. “Killian,” she breathed.

Killian groaned, still plying her with kisses. “Been waiting all bloody night for this.”

Emma hummed her agreement, one hand under his jacket and the other in his hair. “Only flaw...with our date...no kissing,” she breathed, dragging his lips back to hers.

Killian slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “We're spoiled,” he muttered, sliding his lips down her throat. “Here I can kiss you whenever I want.” He ran his teeth over her rapid pulse. “Wherever I want.” He soothed the skin with the flat of his tongue. “However I want.”

Emma clutched at him, her good sense slowly flying out the window. “I want to be with you, Killian,” she breathed. “No barriers.”

He found her mouth again, kissing her soundly. “I want that too, Emma. So much.”

They needed to get out of the car, but he felt too good to move. The windows were slowly fogging over. “I want...” She ground her hips down the lace of her panties rubbing over the hard tent in his trousers. “Fuck.”

Killian jerked his hips up, giving her the friction she craved. “We need to...get inside,” he murmured, pressing wet kisses to her chest. His hands fondled her breasts though her dress, her back arched. “Or I might have you right here.”

Emma moaned. “Should have...gone parking instead,” she breathed with a faint laugh.

It may be been silly, them making out and dry humping like a couple of horny teenagers, but Killian was damned if he cared. “This seat reclines,” he said. His right hand slid down her stomach, the smooth fabric of her dress, inching under it.

Emma gasped sharply as his fingers found her center. “I...thought we...were moving,” she panted, rocking mindlessly into his touch.

“Want to watch you come,” he growled, fingers pressing harder on her aching clit.

Emma slanted her lips over his, the kiss heated and sloppy. “Oh my god...oh...oh...faster,” she pleaded. She buried her head in his neck as he stroked her, her climax coming in a breathless rush. He eased her down, pressing kisses to her overheated skin.

“Can you walk?” he asked softly, brushing some of her hair back.

Emma took a deep breath and nodded. She gave him another soft, lingering kiss to his lips then climbed awkwardly off his lap. She left her coat in the car, but grabbed her purse. She got out and headed for the door, unlocking it with her own key. The cold air didn't seem to touch her. Killian was right behind her, hands on her hips as the door swung open and they stepped inside.

Killian shut the door and locked it, watching hungrily as Emma sashayed toward the stairs. The only light was the hall light, but it was enough. He hurried to catch up, spinning her around and kissing her. Emma moaned into his kiss, her hand sliding under his jacket. She pushed it off his shoulders and he let her go long enough for it to hit the floor.

“In a hurry?” Killian chuckled, kissing along her jaw.

She palmed him through his pants. “You might be,” she countered, asserting just enough pressure to elicit a low moan.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he panted, rocking into her touch all the same. He craved her.

Emma reached for his tie, unknotting it and pulling it free. She started on the buttons of his shirt, lips fused to his skin as it was exposed. Killian started pushing her toward the stairs; he needed them in his bed. Or some other flat surface. Soon. His fingers found the zipper of her dress and dragged it down; he needed to feel her skin.

“Up the stairs,” he breathed, hands spread on her bare back. As he inched up, he confirmed she wasn't wearing a bra and his cock throbbed painfully.

“What's your rush?” she asked coyly, like she wasn't driving him completely mad with her mouth.

“Emma,” he whined, pressing her against the banister and thrusting his hips, letting her feel how fucking hard he was.

Emma wet her lips, thrusting back; she may be teasing him, but her own desire was rising again. It hadn't really gone away. Her orgasm had merely taken the edge off. She kissed him again, pushing the shirt off his shoulders, running her hands over his skin. “God, I want you.”

“Not here,” he panted. “I want to spend the night making love in our bed.”

Emma's heart skipped a beat at “our” but she was too wired to call him on it. She needed him too badly. She barely had time to catch her breath; Killian picked her up and carried her up the stairs. It was far more efficient than their current strategy. Emma lost a shoe in the movement and kicked the other one off before they got to his bedroom.

Killian set her on her feet and promptly peeled her dress off, leaving it in a pool at her feet. She was bare save for her panties, which were so soaked as to be essentially useless. Killian dragged her against his chest, his coarse chest hair rubbing her hard nipples. He squeezed one breast roughly with his hand, sucking the other into his mouth. Emma mewled, heat washing through her again. Her fingers fumbled for his belt, working it free and jerking his fly open. Killian growled low, rumbling against her. She got him free, relishing his gasp of pleasure as she curled her hand around his smooth cock and jerked up, rougher than she intended.

“Bloody _fuck_ ,” Killian swore. “Again.”

Emma repeated her motion, feeling him shudder in her arms. He was hard, throbbing; Emma loved that she could do this to him. She pushed his pants and boxers over his hips; they bunched around his ankles. Somehow he toed off his shoes and socks and stepped out of his pants without falling. The moment he was free Emma shoved him onto the bed, crawling in after him. He reached for her but she shook her head. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the pad of each one, then settled between his thighs.

It felt like he was drowning, the want sharp and painful. But he let her do as she wished. She kissed and licked his skin, kneaded the muscles of his thighs. She inched closer and closer to where he ached for her, a glint in her eye. She ignored his erection entirely, preferring to tease the skin along the V of his hips with her lips and teeth. Killian thrust a hand into her hair, needing something to hang on to. She paid special attention to his tattoo, tracing it with her tongue until he was gasping for air.

“Emma, _please,”_ he said, not caring how fucking needy and wrecked he sounded. “Need... _shit_.” She licked the underside of his cock and his hips jerked off the bed. “In you, love...fuck, I need to be in you.”

Emma released him, nodding. She pulled her panties down her legs. Slowly, she crawled up his body, until their hips were level. Killian sat up, wrapping his arms firmly around her. “Still sure?” he managed to ask.

Emma tenderly cupped his face and kissed him sweetly. “Make love to me, Killian.” She wrapped her legs around his waist; she could feel him nudging her soaking entrance. When she shifted her hips, he'd slid inside. Emma kissed him again, rolling her hips, taking him in completely. She was so wet he stretched her with ease. They both moaned loudly, clutching at each other tightly.

“Emma,” Killian breathed. “Feels...perfect.”

She nodded, stealing a kiss from his lips. She began to rock, short shallow thrusts of her hips, wanting to keep him inside her. He was so _warm_ , long and thick, penetrating her deeply. She could feel so much more this way; every nerve was firing, almost overwhelmed by the exquisite sensations. “Amazing,” she panted, kissing him again. “God.”

Killian kept kissing her, slow tender kisses, hands sliding to her ass to help her ride him. “That's it, darling,” he said softly. “You're so _wet_ , _warm_ , feels so bloody good around me.”

Emma bit her lip, rolling her hips, searching for the right angle. When she found it she dug her blunt nails into his shoulders. “Fuck. Right there. Oh my _god.”_

Killian let out a shuddering breath; his orgasm was close, simmering under the surface of his skin. He needed to hold off, bring her with him. “Faster, love,” he pleaded. “So close.”

Emma unlocked her legs from his hips and tucked them back under her, pushing Killian flat on his back. She rode him faster, harder, her legs burning with the effort. Killian found her clit and pinched it hard and they came together, Emma's walls fluttering around him. She could feel him pulse deep within her, coating her walls with his release.

Emma sagged against his chest; Killian didn't mind. Their hearts pounded against their ribs, echoing in Emma's ears. Killian struggled to catch his breath, still astounded at how incredible she was. He stroked her hair idly, their harsh breathing the only other sounds in the room.

They stayed like that for a while, afraid of ruining the moment. At length, Emma's legs started to ache so she rolled off, stretching them out. She felt the stickiness between her thighs and blushed. “I should go clean up,” she said softly.

“I'll be here,” Killian replied. He thought it wise to give her a few minutes to collect herself. He watched as she climbed from the bed and walked to the bathroom. He sagged back into the mattress, running his fingers through his messy hair. It was everything he could have dreamed of; he prayed she didn't regret it.

Emma found a washcloth and cleaned herself off. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, almost expecting it to be different. It wasn't. She was still the same Emma. She still loved the guy waiting for her in the bed. She smiled to herself and tossed the washcloth in the hamper, then headed back.

When Emma climbed back into the bed, she snuggled right up to him. “Hi.”

“Evening, lass.”

“You okay?”

He laughed. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”

“I'm great.”

“Truly?”

She cupped his whiskered cheek and turned his head so she could look in his blue eyes. “Yeah. This was a pretty fantastic night.”

Killian let out a sigh of relief. His hand toyed with her arm, fingers skimming her skin. “I'm very glad to hear that.”

“Did you think I'd regret it?”

Killian glanced away. “I hoped not.”

“How could I regret being with you? I love you, Killian.”

He swore he stopped breathing for a second. Then he rolled to look into her eyes. “I love you too, Emma. More than I could possibly tell you.”

Emma smiled, tear pricking her eyes. She kissed him so he wouldn't see. Killian pulled her close, the kiss lingering, neither wanting to break it. Emma wound up on her back, an ecstatic Killian looming over her. His smile made her heart clench, he looked so happy.

“Don't cry, my love,” he whispered, wiping at a stray tear slipping down her temple.

“I'm not.”

“You're happy?”

She smiled. “No, this is my sad face,” she snarked.

“Oi! It's bad form to toy with a man's emotions, lass.”

“I love you. Am I forgiven?”

He slid his hand over her stomach, tickling her. “I'll have to think about it.” Emma shrieked, squirming to try and get away from him. He was too heavy and too quick, tickling her until she really was crying with laughter. “There, much better,” he pronounced, satisfied. “Your whole face lights up when you smile.”

Emma feebly shoved at his chest, panting for breath. “That was mean,” she mock complained.

Killian laughed. “Perhaps you should start looking for the places _I'm_ ticklish, darling. Even the playing field.”

“Don't think I won't.”

“I'd be disappointed if you didn't, lass.” He kissed her cheek. “Am I forgiven?”

“I'll have to think about it.”

Killian pouted. “I love you?”

Emma rolled her eyes. She was so weak against those damn eyes and that pout. “Fine.” She let him hug her, cradling his head on her chest. Killian felt her shiver under him. He moved to pull the blankets up, gathering Emma in his arms.

“You really love me?” he asked.

“I wouldn't say it unless I meant it,” she replied softly.

“I know.” He kissed the crown of her head. “When did you know?”

“My birthday. The painting. When did you know?”

“I suspected it for a while, but I knew after you found my sketchbook and didn't want to kill me.”

Emma frowned. “Why would I want to kill you for that?”

“Let's just say I hadn't had the best experience in the past.”

Emma tightened her hold on him. “I'm sorry, Killian.”

“Not your fault.” He licked his lips, taking her hand in his. “You inspire me, Emma. Have from the moment we met.”

“Guess we were pretty smart to fall for each other, huh?”

“Very smart or very misguided. We've got a few weeks to go, lass.”

Emma sighed. “What do you think will happen when we don't have to hide anymore?”

“I imagine things will be much as they are now, just with more dates. I enjoyed talking you out.”

Emma grinned. “I did too. Let's try to keep the heavy conversations at home though, okay?”

“Agreed.” He tipped her chin up so he could kiss her. Emma took the lead, deepening the kiss. Killian sighed and rolled her on her back, using his hands and lips to express just how much he loved her.

 


	15. Chapter 15

She couldn't stop smiling. She spent her shift at the diner smiling. Sitting at the dining room table doing homework. A faint smile even tugged at her lips in Killian's classes, where she was supposed to keep still. But her happiness made everything brighter.

Not even writing personal statements for her law school applications intimidated her.

She'd been putting it off, preferring to spend her time working on her papers or studying for the LSATs. But she was taking the exam in December, just after the end of the semester. She wanted to have the rest of her applications sorted by then. Then as soon as she got her test scores, she could send them off. She'd be in the second round of rolling admissions, but her adviser assured her that still gave her a very good chance.

Her mood got even better Tuesday evening when she checked the mail.

She got the internship.

Emma punched with air with her fist, then fished for her phone. Who should she call first? Ingrid? Elsa? Killian? The moment she thought of him, she knew he deserved to be the first to know. They only met because she needed to earn the money for the internship in the first place.

“Miss me, lass?” he asked the moment he picked up.

“Someone thinks highly of themselves.”

“Your sarcasm no longer phases me, love. You love me now.”

Emma grinned. He loved reminding her that the words had finally been spoken. “I can always stop.”

“Just like that? Forget how amazing it feels when we kiss? Or the way you beg for me?” he asked, his voice low and sultry. “Don't you care about my fragile heart?”

Emma rolled her eyes, while a shiver raced down her spine. She licked her lips. “Of course I care. And kissing you...let's just say I'd much rather be doing that right now.”

Killian chuckled. “I never could resist you, Emma.”

“Neither of us tried very hard.”

“Not after the broom closet, no. Before that...I thought I'd go mad, seeing you in class, not knowing if I'd ever get the chance to be with you.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“I was respecting your space. If you had decided against me, I would have dealt with that.”

“I'm glad I didn't.” She really wished she could tell him in person; she wanted one of his hugs right now. “Believe it or not, I did have a reason for calling.”

“Do tell, love.”

“I got the internship!”

She could almost hear his beaming smile. “Emma, that's fantastic! I knew you would.”

“I'll be spending two months in the capital.”

“I just happen to have those months free, lass.”

“I'll be busy.”

“Then you'll need someone to look after you after a long day.”

“That would nice.” He was always doing little things to ensure her comfort and happiness. One of these days, she'd return the favor.

“And I'm sure I could find something to wile away the hours without you.”

“If you're sure...”

“There is nowhere else I'd rather be.” They hung up shortly after and Emma changed for another shift at Granny's.

The next day Emma arrived twenty minutes early for class; Killian was already waiting for her. “You're here early,” she said, shrugging off her coat.

Killian looked around before leaning in to kiss her. Emma cupped his cheek, chasing his lips as he pulled away; he growled softly. “Emma...”

“There's no one here and won't be for like ten minutes. Kiss me.”

Killian knew they were playing with fire, but he'd missed her. He backed her against the wall and plundered her mouth; she wrapped her arms around him and held tight. They kept going until air was imperative. “Happy?”

“Very.”

Reluctantly, Killian stepped back; they couldn't risk anymore. He sat in his chair, willing his body to relax. Emma licked her lips, savoring the taste of him on her tongue. She moved to lean against the desk. “At least I avoided your hair?”

Killian laughed. “We wouldn't want to explain to the class why I have sex hair now, would we?”

“Definitely not. Although it's almost worth it to see the look on the fangirls' faces.”

“Fond of crushing hearts, love?”

“No, I just think it's better they realize they're wasting their time.”

Killian covered her still hand with his. “Love, they always were. I had no interest in anyone before you.”

Emma curled her fingers around his. “I know.” She had nothing to be jealous about; it technically wasn't a crime to _look_. And Killian never gave them the slightest encouragement. She'd just feel better when they could be together openly.

They snapped apart just before the first student came in; Emma had to give herself a little shake. It was so easy to get lost in his eyes. She nodded curtly at him, then headed for the screen to change. They just started the class's final project on Monday; they'd be working on it until the end of the semester. Emma was excited because it meant that she could soon give up this job and content herself with being Killian's personal model. Or muse as he liked to call her.

Since she'd be in the same pose more or less for the duration, Killian got out the chaise for her. She stood by and watched as he arranged it the way he wanted, adding some pillows and the plain white sheet. Emma snuggled her robe; it still smelled faintly of him. Would he want it back after the semester was over? Or would he let her have it? She could keep it at his place, hers to use whenever she came over. Emma liked that idea. She might even get him to wear it occasionally to reestablish his scent.

Killian looked at her curiously and she blushed, caught in her daydream. She didn't have much time for daydreaming; her real life was so busy and full. But she liked it that way. Ingrid was right; there was a lot to be said for living in the moment. “Ready, Miss Swan?” he asked, trying valiantly to hid his smirk. The bastard knew she was thinking about him.

“Yeah, I'm good.”

Killian called the class to order; Emma stood by the chaise. She listened carefully as Killian reminded the class what their goal was. She always prided herself on doing a good job at whatever she did, so she was determined to be a good model for this final project. Killian nodded to her and she ditched the robe to take up the pose he'd showed her at home.

Killian kept his customary distance for the first few minutes. Emma nude after a few days of not being able to touch her was something he needed to mentally prepare for. Even now, she took his breath away. He knew every inch of her body, every tiny spot that made her moan, made her writhe. He reveled in bringing her pleasure, never leaving her wanting. In a few short weeks she would be his alone; he'd no longer have to share her with his classes.

He would no longer have to hide just how deeply he felt for her. Knowing now that he had her love was a boon to his soul; he still couldn't quite believe it. He'd hoped for so long that she could love him, only to find out that she already did. That they felt the same way. The future he'd idly envisioned was that much closer to becoming a reality.

Finally, he turned around. Emma lay on the chaise, exactly as he showed her Sunday night in their bed. Her hair was tied up on top of her head, but other than that it was exactly the same. He designed it to show off the soft supple lines of her body, accentuating her finest features. Well, almost all of them. Her bottom was sorely neglected, but Killian preferred that for himself.

He saw her watching him, observing his observations. The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked away. She was far too tempting. He went from easel to easel watching the rough sketches take shape. Most were decent, one or two were excellent. But then there were the painful ones.

“Mr. Higgins, can you explain to me why Miss Swan's legs are so short?”

The brown haired boy looked nervously from Killian to Emma, then back to his easel. Emma noticed he only looked at her for the briefest of seconds. “I don't know, sir,” he mumbled.

“Look at her, Mr. Higgins. Really look.” Higgins looked up, his face reddening. Emma had tuned out the students to such an extent over the course of the semester that this was one of the few times she was putting a face to a name. She tried to look at Killian rather than the poor boy; he was clearly a bit uncomfortable with her nudity, even now.

“See the proportion?” Killian said, staring at Emma. “How _long_ her legs are compared to her torso? You're allowing the shadows to affect you. Here...” He hurried over to his desk and snatched up his sketchbook. He found a clean page. He made a loose outline of her, his hand moving quickly over the page. Emma could see the focus, the intensity, as he sketched. “Now watch. Even on this smaller scale, I've got to be true to her form. Elongate your stroke like this...” He did so on the page. “And you'll be much closer. But you must observe. She's not going to bite you.” _Unless you ask nicely,_ he thought.

“Okay, Professor Jones.” The nervous boy went back to his sketch and Killian moved on.

Things were quiet until break; Killian kept the sketchbook tucked under his arm. There were quite a few new sketches of Emma in there, sketches not meant for student eyes. He took the masking tape up to the platform and carefully marked her place.

“Doing okay, love?” he whispered softly.

“Yeah. Cut the kid some slack.”

“He made you about six inches shorter.”

“Oh.” She stifled a laugh and accepted the robe. She wrapped up and stood to stretch while Killian returned to his desk. She worked out a few kinks, wishing Killian could massage them away with those magic hands of his. He could turn her into a puddle of goo with very little effort. She checked her phone, reading a few emails until it was time to start again.

Killian went back to observing, wandering from student to student. The rough sketches were finished now; each student had chosen a different body part to focus on first. Emma was taking shape in over a dozen different forms with no rhythm or reason.

“I believe you've forgotten to give Miss Swan a neck,” Killian said, his voice low.

“Oops!” The girl—Miss James—blushed and tried to correct her mistake.

Killian looked back at Emma. “See the graceful angle where neck meets shoulder? How that follows through the collarbone and down the curve of her waist?” he asked. “You're drawing a living breathing person, not a robot.”

“Yes, Professor Jones.”

“Professor?” It was Miss Foster, one of the—as Emma termed them—fangirls.

“Yes?”

“Could you help me?”

Killian nodded, picking his way to her. “Yes?”

“I was wondering how, ah, anatomical we're supposed to be?”

Killian frowned. “And by that you mean...”

“Should we put clothes on her?” the girl asked bluntly.

“Why would you do that? This is the _figure_ drawing class, Miss Foster.”

“I know but...”

“You will draw her down to the very last freckle, is that understood?”

“Yes, Professor Jones.”

Killian moved on, the idea that anyone would want to cover Emma utterly repugnant. To him, she was perfect. He locked eyes with her; he could see her love for him there. From then on, he went around the room, instructing out loud. Partly to drive home the point that it was a person they were drawing, but mostly to watch Emma's face subtly change as he spoke of her. He tried to be detached, almost clinical, but quickly gave that up. He talked about the round fullness of her breasts, the supine arch of her back against the pillows. He talked about the sardonic arch of her brow, the trim curves of her legs. He rarely had to look at her, because he knew her so well.

Emma licked her lips, listening to him speak of her that way was...arousing. There was no other word for it. The low register of his voice, the way his lips formed around the words, the spark in his eyes were all driving her crazy. She could feel her body getting warmer, despite the relative chill in the room. She tried to will it away, to ignore him, but it was no good. It was the most he'd ever spoken during class and Emma was fairly certain he was torturing her on purpose.

She'd seen the way he shut Miss Foster down, the hard edge to his voice, the anger. She'd never seen him get truly angry before. It intrigued her, rather than frightening her. She knew he would never hurt her.

Finally, it was time to pack up and Emma dashed to the screen to put her clothes on. She dithered, tying and retying her shoes until the last student had gone. Emma grabbed her bag and stepped down from the platform.

“Office. Now,” she said shortly. He'd gotten her riled up, now he was going to deal with it. She shrugged on her coat and led them outside. Killian had to smother a grin. He felt like the cat that got the cream.

They remained a respectful distance apart as they crossed the grass; Killian caught a glimpse of the frustration simmering just under the surface. He hadn't intended on working her up quite this much (or at all, really), but he was damned if he complained. His Emma was fiery when roused. He had no desire to put that fire out, even if he got a little singed.

He opened his office down and shut it firmly the moment they were inside. The lock clicked into place. “Problem, lass?”

Emma tossed her coat into the spare chair. “Yes, you.”

“And what did I do, love?”

“Were you doing that on purpose?”

“What?”

“Making me crazy!” she cried, her voice lowering to a strangled whisper. “Talking about me like that, about my...body.”

Killian took off his jacket and hung it on a peg. “I am their teacher, Emma. I was instructing them in the best way to capture your beauty.”

“You've never done it before.”

Killian stepped closer. “This is their final project,” he pointed out. “Don't you want it to be the best it can possibly be?”

“No! I mean, yes, of course I do.” She growled in frustration. “I just didn't expect it.”

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn't, it's just...”

He stood directly in front of her, hands on her hips. “I've missed you too, Emma.”

She sighed, running her hands over his clothed chest. “We shouldn't.” She didn't sound very convincing.

Killian lowered his head. “Way too dangerous.”

Emma leaned up, their lips almost touching. “Reckless.”

“Insane,” he agreed.

“God, just fucking kiss me,” Emma pleaded, fingers tightening in his shirt. Killian didn't hesitate, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. She mewled, almost clawing at him, desire bubbling quickly to the surface. They'd been unable to touch for over two days and she was burning. Emma pushed him back, hitting the side of the filing cabinet with a soft oomph. His hands were already under sweater, loosening her bra.

“Jesus, Emma,” he gasped, surprised but pleased by her aggression.

“Shh,” she breathed.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered. “I just...god, I need you so much.”

Emma covered his mouth with hers, kissing him deeply, pulling him down by his neck. “Less talk, more sex,” she muttered.

Killian thrust his hips into hers. “Too many fucking clothes, lass.”

Emma stepped back and unceremoniously tugged the sweater over her head. Her loosened bra quickly followed. She stuffed the sweater under the crack in the door while giving Killian a heated look that plainly said, “what are you waiting for?” He started to frantically pull on his own clothes, his vest joining the rest on the floor. Emma was already working her pants off; in less than a minute she was naked again. Gloriously naked. In his office.

He swore he was dreaming. He stared, completely dumbfounded.

Emma saw his face and slow smile curved her lips. “You look like you've never seen me naked before,” she said quietly. “Which we both know isn't true. Now are you going to fuck me or what?” She started to fondle her own breasts, waiting for him to catch up.

Killian shook his head, yanking on his stubborn pants. He hissed as his cock came free. He shoved the material down his hips and moved to his desk chair. Emma followed him, climbing into his lap. His hands went to her ass, holding her as she rocked her hips, coating his length with her copious arousal. “Bloody hell,” he hissed, resting his forehead against hers.

“I've wanted this,” she confessed. “Us together here. Ever since the last time.” She kissed his lips, along with another long roll of her hips. “Need you.”

“Yes,” he breathed, even while knowing how reckless it was. He bit down on his lip as she sank down, taking him inside her tight wet heat. She rocked slowly, eyes locked with his as she rode him.

“Love how this feels,” she whispered. “You're so big inside me, Killian. So good.”

Killian grunted low in his throat. “Bloody fuck.” He didn't think he'd be able to handle her attempt at dirty talk without giving them away. He crushed his mouth to hers, hands hard on her hips. Emma scrambled for a second, but gripped his shoulders, the kiss stifling her cry of pleasure. Skin slapped together, almost dangerously loud and he abruptly stood them up and planted her on his desk. He spread her legs wide, hips jerking into hers, nearly mindless in his need. “Touch yourself,” he growled in her ear.

Emma felt like she was on fire, like she'd spontaneously combust at any moment, but she did as he bid, fingers roughly playing with her aching clit. Killian's cock hit her deep, bottoming out; she had to fight to keep from screaming. Her climax hit her without warning, stealing her breath. Her back bowed against the desk, every nerve on fire from the intense pleasure.

Killian's hips jerked, pushing through it, chasing his own high. He buried his head in her neck as it washed over him, thrusting once, twice, three times before going still.

Emma held him close, using him for warmth as she caught her breath. She placed a kiss to his temple as she stroked his hair. “You okay?”

“Aye. You?”

“Fantastic.”

“We need to get you some clothes.”

Emma groaned. “Yeah.”

Killian let her up, yanking up his own pants and fastening them. He found her clothes and brought them to her, shaking the dust off her sweater. “This will need to be washed, love.”

Emma wrinkled her nose at it. “Guess I didn't think that through.”

“I've got a spare shirt around here if you'd rather have that.” Outside, she'd be wearing a coat; no one would ever know.

She smiled. “That would be great.”

It took him a few tense minutes, but he found the shirt folded neatly in a drawer. He handed it to Emma and started rebuttoning his own shirt. “That was reckless.”

“But fun.”

He waited until Emma was decent to speak. “I'm gonna poke my head out, make sure no one's around.”

“Okay.” She sat in his chair and waited.

Killian unlocked the door and headed down the hall. He caught a glimpse of himself in some glass and hurried ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. The hall seemed deserted. He went back to Emma. “All clear,” he said, shutting the door firmly again.

She let him have the chair. “That's good.”

He sat and patted his lap. “Must be our lucky day.”

“You did get lucky,” she pointed out, sitting.

“That I did.” He brushed some of her hair back. “I truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Emma.”

“I told you, you didn't. You're just too sexy for our own good.”

“I wasn't the one who was naked, lass.”

“You don't have to be naked to be sexy. I thought you were the moment I met you.”

“You did?”

“Have you seen you? Why do you think all those girls take your classes?”

In spite of himself, Killian could feel his cheeks burning. Obviously, he knew she found him attractive but to hear her say it...he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Perhaps you should tell me, love.”

Emma leaned her forehead against his. “Well, if you don't know already...”

“I love you, Emma.”

“Love you too.” She stole another kiss, then laid her head on his shoulder. “Your office is tiny.”

“It was the only one available when I took the job. As long as I have my studio at home, I don't need much room.” He rubbed her back absently. “Who knows where we'll be next year.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're still planning on law school, correct?”

“Well, yeah.” And suddenly it hit her like a bolt of lightening...he was planning on going with her. At least that's what she thought he was saying. She stopped breathing for a second, panic rising in her throat.

“Emma? Are you okay?”

Her heart was racing. She just never thought, never even fucking _considered_ , what would happen after she graduated. Sure, he talked about coming with her during her internship, but that was Harrisburg. She could be in fucking California a year from now. She was so high on the moment that her usual careful caution was tossed out the window like so much garbage.

She needed to think. She needed some time.

“Yeah,” she lied, moving to sit up. “But I just remembered I need to check with Dr. Burke for my recommendation.” More lies. She'd gotten that recommendation weeks ago. “I gotta go.” She kissed him quickly. “See you later?”

Killian frowned, but didn't press her. Something was clearly bothering her; she was suddenly a skittish colt in his arms. “Of course, darling.”

“And I've got a shift at Granny's tonight!” she reminded him as she shrugged into her coat. She swung her bag onto her shoulder and left. Leaving Killian wondering just what it was he said that had her so damn scared.

* * *

She felt terrible. She was standoffish during the advanced class and only gave Killian a brief parting kiss before heading to Granny's for her shift. She didn't know how to properly explain how she was feeling or even _what_ she was feeling. She knew he deserved an explanation; Emma just didn't know how to give him one. So she did what she did best and avoided the issue.

“Emma, what is going on with you?” Elsa asked in exasperation Thursday evening. “Why are you even here?”

“I live here,” Emma retorted, not looking up from her laptop.

“Not that much lately,” Elsa said. “And that's not a complaint, merely an observation.”

“I'm trying to finish this essay.”

Elsa refused to give up. She knew Emma too well; she was avoiding something. “Are you and Killian fighting?”

“What? No!”

Elsa crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Really?”

“Yes! No. I don't know,” Emma said, confused.

“Did he do something?”

“No.”

“Did he say something?”

“Maybe?”

Elsa sat in the chair next to her. “Alright, spill.”

Emma told her everything, about her internship, about law school, about Killian apparently having all these plans for the future.

Elsa smiled sympathetically. “Did he actually give you a checklist or something? Just _declare_ you were going to move in together? Just lay out the rest of your lives?”

Emma bit her lip. “No. But what else could he mean?”

“Emma, it sounds to me like he's making room for you in his life. That's good, right?”

She remembered how happy she'd been when he'd given her the key to his house. This wasn't much different was it? But he already had a good job, an established career. Could she just expect him to pack up and move to another state—possibly all the way across the country—for her? He'd be even further away from his family. “What if we're moving too fast?” she said in a small voice.

“Does it feel like you are? Honestly?”

Emma swallowed. “No.” She was sure what she felt for him was real. She just wasn't used to people putting her first, aside from Ingrid. And it had taken Emma a long time to trust her too.

“Do you want a future with him? Because, speaking as your friend, I think you are perfect for each other.”

What did she want? She wanted to be with him. She wanted to go to law school. Beyond that, she wasn't quite ready to say. Killian was so supportive of her dreams; she felt even worse for avoiding him. He was exactly the type of man who would move heaven and earth to give her what she wanted.

“I have to go.”

Elsa smiled. “Tell Killian I said hi!”

It was bitterly cold; the weather was calling for a huge snowstorm over the weekend. Emma had lived there too long to actually believe it. They got their fair share of snow, but it was rarely enough to shut the campus down. Emma threw her backpack in the passenger seat and coaxed the engine of the old Bug to life. She threw it in gear before it was really warm, her fingers freezing on the wheel.

It took her twenty minutes to get to his house. She grabbed her bag; she could see the kitchen light on. She thought about using her key but it felt weird to just barge in after essentially ignoring him for twenty four hours. She rang the bell.

Killian was putting the finishing touches on his chicken sandwich; he wasn't very hungry. He still didn't understand what he'd done to make Emma avoid him like this. He thought about calling her at least a dozen times, but didn't, feeling it as better to give her some space. Besides, he'd see her on the morrow anyway.

His head jerked up when the bell rang. Who could that be? He lowered his sandwich and hurried to the door. “Emma?” he asked, thoroughly confused. He stepped back to she could come in. “Why didn't you use your key?”

Emma ducked her head and stepped inside. “I didn't want to assume.”

“Lass, I gave you that key for a reason.” Unless that reason didn't apply anymore? As inexplicable as it seemed, could she simply be there to break up with him?

“I know, but given how I left things...we should talk.”

“Aye.” He took her coat and hung it next to his. She slid off her shoes and left her backpack behind, following him into the kitchen. At least, it seemed like she wanted to stay for a bit; he chose to see that as a good sign.

“A sandwich?” Emma asked, seeing the leftover supplies on the counter.

“I haven't been very hungry today.”

Her heart sank. “Oh.” _That's what you get for just running off like scared rabbit, Swan._

He held out the chair for her and she sat, chewing on her lip. Killian grabbed his sandwich and sat catty corner from her, the air thick with tension. “Perhaps you should just say it, love.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever it is going on in that pretty head of yours? Have I upset you?”

Emma sighed. “Not exactly. I just...you surprised me, is all.”

She wasn't making sense. “I'm gonna need a little more to go on than that.”

Oh. Right. “Yesterday...were you implying that you wanted to stay with me while I go to law school?”

So _that's_ what was bothering her. Killian scratched behind his ear. “I may have thought along those lines. Should I not have?”

Emma swallowed, toying with her hands. “I guess...I just hadn't thought about it before,” she said honestly. “Us after I graduate, I mean. But you have.”

He'd been envisioning a future with her for longer than was probably wise, but he couldn't help it. “I have,” he replied. “A lot actually. I want to be with you, Emma. I want us to have a future together.”

“What kind of future?”

“You mean have a pictured us with picket fence, a dog and some children?” he asked, frowning. “No. Mostly I've just considered the alternatives for your schooling...is that what this is about? Do you not want me? Want _us?_ Do you see a future for us, Emma?” His heart was suddenly in his throat, wondering what she would say.

The anxious look on his face wrecked her. He was bracing himself for rejection. She took a deep breath. “I've been so in the moment,” she said slowly, “that I honestly hadn't given it any thought. _But_ I do want you, Killian. I want us. This with us is one of the two things I _know_ I want.”

Killian let out a sigh of relief. “I'm very happy to hear that, love.”

“It just hit me, when you said that,” she explained. “That we could have a future, that you would actually follow me to law school, just give up your job, your _life_ here. And I guess it scared me a little bit.”

“I'm so sorry, love. I truly didn't think, but I should have. I know we haven't talked about it, but there is a bit of an age difference between you and I.”

“Does that bother you? I mean, law school's another three years. It could be a while until I'm even on my feet careerwise, let alone ready for a...” She was going to say “family” but stopped herself. They'd never really talked about any of this.

He wanted to hold her, to erase her frown with kisses, but it was important they talk about this. “It's never bothered me, Emma. All I see is your strength, your determination, the light that shines so brightly, love. I want you to have everything you desire in life and I only hope that you allow me to be a part of that journey.”

Her lip wobbled dangerously for a minute; how did he always know what she needed to hear? “I want that too, Killian. But what if I got into Stanford? Or Michigan? I couldn't ask you to live so far away from your family! Liam's having a baby, remember?”

“Despite what my dear brother believes, I am a grown man. I can choose for myself where I want to live and who I love. As for my job, I can teach anywhere, lass. And...well, I was going to wait to tell you this, but I'm considering dropping teaching full time and taking up my art seriously again.”

“Really?”

“It's all because of you,” he confirmed. “I'd keep on with teaching until I was making some money with my art, of course. But I want to try again, take back what Milah took from me.”

Emma smiled, her first real smile since the day before. “That's amazing, Killian. I know you can do it.”

“Of course, that would be a lot easier with my muse by my side.”

“You'd really move to California?”

“If that was where you wanted to go, aye. I hear it's beautiful.”

A tear did fall then; she was just so overwhelmed by his love for her. He truly did just want to make her happy. “I'm sorry I ran out like that,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I just didn't know how to explain.”

Her touch soothed his aching heart. “I wanted to call you, but I hoped you just needed some time.”

“You were right. Elsa set me straight.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, she seems to be a fan of you. In fact, she said we were perfect for each other.”

“That's quite the compliment.” His sandwich was half eaten, but he wanted to hold her more. He stood and tugged on her hand. She stood too and allowed him to guide her to the couch. They sat in the semi darkness, Emma tucked into his side.

“Did we just have our first fight?” Emma asked after a while.

“Not sure I'd call that a fight,” he replied with laugh. “More of a misunderstanding.”

“It was bound to happen eventually.”

“We are only human, darling.” He kissed the top of her head. “But I'm glad you're here. Missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She raised her head, inching closer to him. She cupped his cheeks and drew his lips to hers. The soft reassuring kiss slowly morphed into something else, the longing they felt pouring out into every brush of their lips. Killian urged her into his lap; she eagerly straddled his hips. She remembered the last time she was here, riding him naked in his office, and...God, she missed him so much. Emma shivered.

“No rush, my love,” he whispered between kisses. “Let me just hold you for a while.”

“You don't want make up sex?”

“Didn't we just establish that wasn't a fight?” He kissed her nose, the apple of her cheeks. “Merely a misunderstanding.”

“But I missed you,” she whined.

“I missed you too, Emma. So much. I was so bloody useless today, thinking I hurt you.”

Emma cupped his face, covering it with kisses. “I'm so sorry. It was all me,” she said. “I screwed up.”

He ran his hands along her spine, toyed with the hem of her top. “You don't have to prove yourself to me.”

“But I want to love you, Killian.” She kissed him again, her lips more insistent, her warm lush body pressing closer to him. He couldn't stop his body's reaction, didn't want to. He was always on fire for her; all she had to do was light the match.

“Hang on,” he said warningly. He cupped her ass in his hands and hauled them up, stalking toward the stairs as Emma wrapped her arms and legs around him. If they were going to do this, then they were bloody well doing it in their bed. She squealed happily and it was music to his ears.

Emma kissed the underside of his jaw, hitching her legs higher as he carried her up the stairs. She felt giddy, feeling his strong arms around her. When they reached the bedroom, Killian set her on her feet, but Emma didn't let him get away. She pushed him down on the bed and straddled him again, crashing her lips to his.

Killian grunted, his hands sliding over her. He peeled the top from her body, groaning as she ground her hips into his. “Impatient again?”

“I told you you were sexy, remember?”

“Aye, but I've not had you properly since Sunday. I intend to get my fill.”

“What about your office?” Emma asked in a low voice, nipping at his earlobe.

He groaned. He'd loved seeing her so wild and wanton. “We can do better.”

“I thought it was pretty fucking spectacular.”

Her profanity tugged at something in his gut. He flipped them over, putting Emma on her back. He traced her curves with his hands, listening to her moan of pleasure. “I intend on worshipping every inch of you, my love. Make you beg.”

“Not fair.”

“Think of it as your punishment.”

“Oh god.” Emma moaned, hips rolling.

Killian pushed the bra cup aside and suckled at her breast. “Soon I'm going to mark you,” he growled, tongue lashing the hard stiff peak. “Your body will be covered with them.”

Her clit throbbed, idly wondering which part of her he'd mark first. “Tell me.”

“So many things I want to do to you, lass. I just want to keep you tied to our bed. All the time.” He caught her sharp intake of breath. “Our bed, love. I only want you.” He worked her bra free, tossing it aside. He suckled her other breast and she keened, back arching. Her fingers gripped his shirt, pulling hard. “Something you want?”

“Clothes. Off.”

“Patience.” He kissed the beauty mark on the side of her breast, then kissed further down her stomach. He was hard as a rock, cock straining against his zipper, but he could be patient. Emma whimpered as he slowly removed her pants, nuzzling her mound as he pulled the denim down her long legs. Then he moved her to the center of the bed and tucked his head between her legs.

“Oh fuck!” she cried. He licked her with the flat of his tongue; her blood sizzled as he toyed with her, alternating his strokes, writing nonsense into her skin. She bucked and moaned, one hand fisting the sheet, the other in his hair. She pulled as he continued to work her, fast then tortuously slow, tongue swirling around her clit until she saw stars. He brought her to the very edge, then backed off, grinning like the fucking Cheshire Cat. Emma snarled and whined, completely frustrated. “What the fuck?!”

“I told you...patience.” He dived back in, completely unconcerned by her desperation. It was slower this time as he built her up, up, up, up, only to take away her high at the last minute. She shrieked when he pulled away, his lips and chin covered her in arousal.

“You are evil,” she panted.

“It'll be worth it, lass,” he promised. He was so fucking hard he could scarcely breathe but he dutifully went down on her again, savoring every whine, every moan, every frustrated mutter of his name. She was quivering, shaking in his arms and still he didn't let her come.

“Killian! Killian, please, please, please! I need...fuck, I just _need_.”

He left a parting kiss to her thigh. “I know what you need, Emma.” He stood, stalking around the bed, stripping off his shirt. He stopped where her head rested on the edge of the bed, loosening his pants. He let out a long moan as the pressure eased on his cock; Emma licked her lips. She watched him with wide eyes as he very, very slowly peeled the denim over his hips, his thick cock springing free right in front of her face. She locked eyes with him and he grinned wickedly, kicking the pants away. He stepped closer until his hot needy flesh was hanging over her face. Emma reached up and ran her fingertips over him, bringing him to her lips. She licked and laved, mouth working him like Popsicle or a particularly tasty lollipop. Killian moaned, impossibly turned on by her. He was so caught up in what she was doing that he almost missed her hand drifting down her stomach. He slapped it away. “Ah, ah, princess. Mine.”

Emma rubbed her thighs together, the deep ache inside her nearly unbearable. “It hurts,” she complained, looking up at him with lust drenched eyes. Christ, she was gorgeous.

“I know, love. Soon.” He bent down, giving her a sloppy upside down kiss, a hand reaching up to maul her breast. She keened, clit throbbing even more. She was going to burn to cinders if he didn't fuck her soon. If this was her punishment for not fighting with him, then she shuddered to think what real make up sex would feel like.

Killian dragged himself away from her greedy lips and crawled back into the bed. He moved to kneel between her spread legs. He skimmed his hands over her thighs, hips, stomach; she shuddered. She was flushed, chest already heaving, hair around her head like a wild mane. Her green eyes were nearly black with need. She rolled her hips into thr air, her body unconsciously seeking his, needing him, craving him. He bent down a pressed a chaste kiss to her swollen nub and she moaned.

“Legs around me, love,” he said in a low voice.

She looked skeptical but did as she was bid. Once her ankles locked behind his back, he lifted her up, bringing their hips level. He hadn't gone to the gym all those days specifically for this, but it certainly didn't hurt. His biceps bulged as he held her weight, her shoulders pressed into the mattress. Emma caught on immediately, trembling in anticipation. Killian lined himself up and slid home, filling her in a single thrust. They both moaned; Killian knew this angle would be fucking amazing for her. He pulled out a little and thrust back in, her walls hot and tight and slick around him.

“Fucking hell,” he bit out, still thrusting slow.

“Ooooh,” Emma groaned. Shudders raced up her spine. “Ooooh _fuck.”_

“Good?”

Emma bit her lip. “Fucking best,” she confirmed. “Don't stop.”

Killian shook his head. “Never leaving you...god, you feel fucking incredible.” He picked up his pace; she cried out. She reached for something, anything, to hold on to; she was so worked up, so sensitive. It felt like he was hitting every nerve ending inside her.

Then she arched her back and realized she was wrong. _“Fuck!”_

Killian took in the change her, shaking and writhing like he'd never seen, and he realized what he'd found. He moved faster, _harder,_ heeding her half screamed pleas until he felt her explode. White hot fire ripped through her veins and she swore she saw stars. Killian didn't even try to hold off his own climax, letting her silken walls milk him dry, her name a prayer on his lips.

His arms were shaking with the effort of holding her up; he slipped out of her and they collapsed on the bed in a sweaty tangle of limbs. Emma curled up next to him like a kitten, her heart still pounding. Killian closed his eyes, gulping down air until he could breath normally again. He turned to Emma; it almost appeared that she was asleep, but he knew better. “Love?”

“Hmm?”

“Still with me?”

“Barely.”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

He leaned in and kissed her sweaty brow. “Stay, I'll be right back.” He went to fetch a washcloth and cleaned her up, then got some water from the kitchen. Emma was coming out of the bathroom when he returned, albeit on wobbly legs. “I thought I asked you to stay?”

“I'm okay.”

Killian set the glasses on his nightstand. “Hey.” He walked over to her and gathered her against his chest. She hugged him back. “Thirsty?”

“Parched.”

He guided them to the nightstand. “Here.” Emma drank nearly the whole glass in one go; he chuckled. He downed most of his, then pulled back the comforter for her. Emma climbed into the bed and waited for him. He got the spare blanket from the chest, then joined her. “How do you feel now?”

She sighed. “Perfect.”

“Are you staying?”

“I can. I brought my stuff.”

“You've got some things here already. Perhaps we should clear out some space for you. Unless you'd rather not,” he finished hurriedly. He'd nearly spooked her once by talking of the future.

She snuggled into his chest. “No, we can do that. Probably a good idea. You don't mind?”

“I want you to feel at home here, Emma.”

“I do already,” she said. “I like waking up with you.”

He smiled. “I do too.”

“I should still keep my own place for the time being though.”

“Of course, love. But you are here three, sometimes four, nights a week. Nothing wrong with having a drawer of your things here.”

“You're very practical for an artist.”

“Just trying to anticipate your needs, lass.”

She huffed and sighed, closing her eyes. She was quiet so long, Killian thought she was asleep. “Killian?”

“Yes?”

“Would you read through my personal essays? For my law school applications? Make sure I don't sound like an idiot?”

“I don't think you could ever sound like an idiot.”

“Would you?”

“I'm not sure how much help I would be, lass. I don't really know the first thing about law school.”

“You don't have to. But you...you just...get me and I thought you could stop me from putting my foot in my mouth. But nevermind.”

Well now he felt like an arse. “I would be honored to, Emma. If you truly think it would put your mind at ease.”

She kissed his chest. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, darling.” They'd had their first misunderstanding and survived; he couldn't ask for anymore than that.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Emma burrowed deeper under the comforter, automatically tucking her feet between Killian's. She was still a blanket hog, but she'd gotten accustomed to him sleeping beside her. His arm was thrown loosely over her hip, the patchwork quilt light against the blue of the comforter. She knew if she opened her eyes she'd see his sleeping face, so relaxed and boyish. It never failed to tug at her heartstrings.

It was early still, however. She'd arrived the evening before after working what amounted to a double shift at Granny's over the weekend. It was just starting to snow when she pulled into his driveway. He took one look at her and drew her a bath, bringing her a tray of snacks. He was so sweet about it, but she was so, so tired. After the bath, she promptly fell asleep, leaving Killian to tuck her in. Not exactly their most romantic or sexy interlude.

Her internal clock told her it wasn't yet time to wake up to get ready for class; she had this vaguely formed idea of making _him_ breakfast for a change, since she'd been such a lousy date the previous night. But she was too warm and sleepy still. It could wait. She tucked her head against his chest and let his unique scent lull her back to sleep.

When she woke up again, they were entwined, the quilt falling off Killian's shoulder as he clung to her for warmth. His thigh was between her legs, his nose buried in her cleavage. He was warm and solid and oh so adorable. She smiled into his hair, pressing a featherlight kiss to the crown of his head.

Then he shifted and his thigh grazed her core—covered only in thin panties—leaving Emma with sparks under her skin. They hadn't actually made love since the not makeup sex after their not a fight and her body obviously noticed. Shit. She chewed on her lip, not wanting to wake him up. He muttered something that she didn't catch, his shallow breaths hot on her skin. She was wearing one of his button down shirts, with few buttons actually buttoned. Of course her chest was practically hanging out of it.

She tried to move, to put a little bit of space between them, until her hand grazed something hard and velvety soft.  _Oh fuck._ He was naked. Although, to be fair, they frequently slept naked when she stayed over. Was he dreaming about her again? Or was this his typical reaction to her presence in his bed? He kept calling it theirs, but she was having trouble wrapping her head around that. She was sure about him, was convinced he loved her, but it was still hard to take  _that_ particular leap, even in her own head. But she was definitely thinking about it, especially if this was how things would be if they did something crazy like move in together.

Should she give him a very special wake up call? He'd done it for her. Several times, waking her from a deep sleep to revel in spine tingling pleasure. Her fingers grazed him again; her eyes fluttered closed. She imagined his face and that made up her mind. Carefully, she managed to disentangle herself, sliding down under the covers. Emma wet her lips, taking in the erect flesh, dragging her finger over it. Killian stirred for a second then settled.

Emma went back to her treat, tongue darting out to lick him. Root to tip, up and down, just the way he liked. She stroked him with her hand, wetness pooling between her thighs.

Killian scrunched his brow, wondering what the wet warm feeling was. He was having such a good dream; he and Emma on a very private beach, splashing in the ocean they loved so much. Naked of course. He grunted, reaching blindly and finding cool sheets. Then an erotic jolt shook him as his foggy brain realized where she was.

Holy fuck, she was sucking him off while he was sleeping.

“Emma?” His voice was a strangled whisper, praying his senses weren't lying to him.

“Hmm?” she hummed, lips teasing the head of his cock.

“Bloody hell.” He ripped the blankets away so he could see her in all her wanton glory. She smiled coyly up at him, eyes alight with mischief and lust, his shirt falling off her pale shoulders. He caught a peak of her breasts and he hardened even more. “Fuck.”

Emma giggled. She eased him on to his back, settling between his legs. Her hair fell in messy golden waves, the shirt falling almost completely off her, a button straining at her chest. She was gorgeous, smiling at him before enveloping him in the warm recesses of her mouth. Killian bucked his hips, but jerked them back suddenly terrified of choking her. But Emma didn't pause, hair falling around her face as her head continued to bob.

Killian hastily pulled it back to he could see. “Not...oh god, that's good...” he breathed as a shudder raced down his spine. She had such a talented mouth; he couldn't get enough. He sucked in a breath and tried again. “I'm very...fuck...appreciative, love, but...oh bloody fucking hell.” His eyes rolled back in his head as she tongued the sensitive spot just below the tip of his cock, fingers fondling his balls.

Emma groaned, so completely turned on by him, just from watching his face as she pleasured him. She gave them both a respite, lavishing his cock with kisses and licks, an inferno between her legs. She clamped her thighs together, trying to ease the ache.

“Are you wet for me, lass?” Killian bit out. “Fuck, you are, aren't you? So hot and wet. Let me have you, Emma. It'll feel so good.”

Christ, she was tempted. But he always made sex about her pleasure. She loved him for it; he was far and away the best lover she'd ever had. But this morning was about him. She looked up into his eyes and shook her head. Instead, she snaked her hand down into her panties and touched herself.

Killian's eyes went wide.  _“Bloody fuck.”_ Touching herself while swallowing him down her pretty throat? He nearly came on the spot. But he held on by a thread, letting her play him to her satisfaction. He took a firmer grip on her hair, determined to see the play out to the end.

Emma's fingers slid through her slippery flesh; she moaned. The vibrations tore at Kilian's control; he had to bite his lip hard. Emma took him back into her mouth the same moment she pressed two fingers inside her cunt. She rode them eagerly, thumb brushing her clit, taking Killian as deeply as she could. He was trembling, trying to hold himself back from simply fucking her mouth.

“So, so good, lass. Hot and wet, such a sweet mouth. Oh god,” he muttered. He wasn't even aware of what he was saying, turning into a babbling incoherent wreck of a man.

Emma added a third finger and shuddered; she was close. She hadn't realized just how erotic this could be. “That's it, love...fuck, I'm so close...so fucking close...come with me, Emma...fuck!” That exclamation was all the warning she got as he jerked, hot spurts of his seed filling her mouth. She kept sucking, swallowing, moaning around him as she fell, walls fluttering around her fingers.

She was so short of breath; she released him with a soft pop and fell back onto the mattress. Her head rested on Killian's thigh, eyes closed as she panted. Killian was breathing heavy too, but he just stared down at her in awe. He brushed some hair back from her face; a smile played at her lips. “Morning,” she gasped.

Killian chuckled. “A very good morning, my love.”

Emma licked her lips, scooting up the bed. “Hi.”

Killian ran his hand over her skin. “Hello. Have I mentioned how much I love you lately?”

Emma felt her heart squeeze. “Remind me?”

Killian smiled softly before capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. Emma sighed happily and let him kiss her, warmth spreading all the way down to her toes. She played with his hair, in no rush to start their day. Their lazy makeout session was interrupted by not one but two blaring phones. Killian grunted impatiently, but reached for his phone on the nightstand. Emma did the same on the other side, her eyes widening when she read the text.

_Campus wide alert: Campus is closed due to inclement weather. Only essential staff report._

“What the hell?” Emma got up and dashed to the window, pulling her borrowed shirt around her to cover herself properly. She yanked back the curtain and gasped. The entire scene was white. What had started out as a flurry had turned into a full fledged snowstorm. And it was still coming down.

Killian appeared behind her. “I've never seen this much snow.”

“Neither have I. Not here anyway. Yours say campus was closed too?”

“Aye. It must really be bad for them to take such a step.”

“We need to turn on the news.” She needed to call Elsa and her mother.

“Aye. I've got an old pair of sleep pants you can borrow. Bottom left drawer.”

“I'm good.”

“Love, you're shivering. You should either shower and dress properly or borrow my things. Go on; I'll turn on the telly.” He kissed her cheek, then dug in another drawer for some boxers and a t-shirt. He was dressed and gone before Emma could argue some more. While she found the pants, she dialed Elsa.

“Emma! Did you hear?”

“Yeah, we got the text. Is campus really closed?”

“Yeah. They say there's over a foot on the ground and it's still coming down.”

“A foot? Damn.”

“Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah. We were just surprised. Killian's turning on the news now. I think we've got enough supplies for a few days.” She hoped so. Killian was usually good about having food around, since he liked to cook.

“Do you think it'll last that long?”

“I hope not. I'm supposed to fly home Wednesday night.” She put it off as late as she could, even though classes on Wednesday were cut short. As much as she didn't want to leave Killian, she did want to see her mom.

“I guess all we can do is sit tight. Good thing you've got Killian to keep you warm.”

Emma laughed. “Feel free to borrow my electric blanket if it gets too cold.”

“You know me, Emma. The cold doesn't bother me.”

“Because you're weird like that.”

Elsa laughed. “Don't go playing in snow until it stops; we don't want to send out a search party for you.”

“Trust me, I'm perfectly content to stay inside.” She said goodbye and contemplated calling her mother. But Ingrid wasn't likely to be awake yet. Best to let her sleep for a while. Emma donned the pants and headed downstairs. She smelled coffee. “Bless you.”

Killian grinned, handing her a steaming cup. “Just the way you like it. Telly's on in the living room, love.”

Emma kissed his cheek. “Thanks.” She headed for the couch, curling up, feet tucked under her. She blew on the liquid to cool it a bit before taking a sip.

“The winter storm is a big one, folks,” the weatherman was saying. “Many areas are reporting at least a foot so far, all falling in the last twelve hours or so. A state of emergency has been called for the state and citizens are urged to stay off the roads. The next few hours are critical, as we are currently sitting right in the center of this system.” He pointed things out on the map, talking about low pressure and bitter temperatures. Emma ignored most of it. The university had one of the best meteorology programs in the country, but that didn't seem to be doing them much good at the moment.

“Everything's closed,” Emma informed Killian as he came in with his own coffee. _“Everything._ They're saying it might not stop until tomorrow.”

“We've got plenty of things here in terms of food and beverages,” Killian said seriously. “I picked up the groceries yesterday. You're welcome to stay here.”

“That's good because they closed the roads.” She bit her lip. “Shit.” She grabbed her phone. She was supposed to work at Granny's tonight. Surely the old woman didn't expect anyone to turn up? She dialed the diner. No one answered. Frowning, she dialed Granny's cell.

“Hey Emma,” came Granny's usually warm voice. She sounded a bit annoyed.

“I know I was...”

“Don't worry about it,” Granny said quickly. “Stay home, be safe. The diner's closed. I might try to go in later, make some coffee for the road crews.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, dear. You just study hard, you hear?”

Emma chuckled. “Sure, Granny. Thanks.”

“Granny, I presume?” Killian asked.

“Yeah. The diner's actually closed. I think it might be the apocalypse.”

He laughed. “It's just a storm, love.”

“So what should we do with ourselves?”

He waggled his brows at her. “I can think of a few things....”

She swatted his shoulder. “I know we agreed no school work, but I really should get some studying done. And some writing. Do you mind?”

He brushed some hair over her shoulder. “Of course not. I'll make us some breakfast, then you can study.”

“I was going to cook for you,” Emma admitted.

His smile melted her heart. “That's very kind of you, but let me. Perhaps you could make us some of that grilled cheese you like later?”

“Deal.” She finished her coffee, then went upstairs to shower. She got some fresh clothes out of her new drawer in his dresser; it almost did feel like she lived there too. It felt like home to her. She returned to the kitchen, breathing in the heavenly smells of bacon, eggs and potatoes. “You went all out.”

He shrugged. “We're here, might as well enjoy it.” Truthfully, he enjoyed cooking for her, bringing her a little piece of home. He was always finding new ways to make his place a second home for her, perhaps trying to gently show her how things would be if they lived together. So he stuck with little things, not wanting to overwhelm her.

After breakfast, Emma grabbed her backpack and set up shop on Killian's dining room table. She punched in the wifi password for his router; she'd never used her laptop at his place before. Killian got her another cup of coffee before leaving her alone to work. She reached for his hand, tugging him back so she could kiss him tenderly. “Don't get into too much trouble without me, babe.”

He smirked, secretly thrilled at her little endearment for him. “I shall do my best. Study hard.”

Killian went to shower himself, opting to head directly to his studio afterward. Emma's work was important and it was getting down to the wire. He'd just distract her. The studio was a bit drafty; some snow had swept right up to the French doors. He went around rechecking the windows and tucking a couple of towels around the doors to combat the chill. He turned on the portable heater and considered his options. He had several ideas at once, including, finally, something for his niece or nephew. Liam still hadn't said which it was. In fact, Killian hadn't spoken to his brother in quite a while.

He started gathering the things he needed, fishing out his phone to call his brother.

“Killian?”

“Hi, Liam.”

“Don't you have class or something?”

“Memorize my schedule?”

He could almost hear his brother's eye roll. “No, but it's Monday. I thought it would be a fair assumption.”

“Point taken. Campus is closed. We've got a snowstorm.”

“They closed campus for snow?”

“I'll show you.” He switched to camera mode, quickly snapping a picture and sending it to Liam. “See?”

“So you're snowed in?”

“More or less. We've got plenty of work to do though.”

“We?” Liam asked curiously.

“Me, _I_ ,” Killian corrected. “Or the royal we, whichever you prefer.”

“Don't be such a ponce, Killian.”

“Git.”

“Sod.”

“How are things with Molly?”

“She's good. Happily working on the nursery as we speak. With her mother.”

Killian frowned. “And you're okay with that?”

“Genevieve is fine. Bernard is the difficult one.”

Killian couldn't help but wonder how his own meeting with Emma's mother would go once they could come clean about being together. She seemed to like him well enough when he was just the professor. “She's his little girl. You'll be the same with yours.”

“And just what are you implying?”

“You've got a protective streak a mile wide, brother. That's a _good_ thing. Just try not to overdo it. Listen to that wife of yours. She's the smart one.”

Liam laughed. “Aye, she is. I'd be lost without her.”

“I can imagine.” Except he didn't because his love was on the other side of the house, working her tail off to get into law school. Something else he couldn't tell his brother. Liam wouldn't take it well if Killian moved even further away. But he was serious when he promised Emma he'd go with her. He'd follow her to the end of the world, if necessary. He'd just have to cross that bridge when he got to it.

They chatted for a while longer, mostly about football. The league was heading into January break, a period of speculation for any serious football fan. They discussed United's options, a few of the recent matches. Perhaps he'd get to take Emma to a match some day.

After hanging up, he turned to his project, the sketch for the nursery. He decided to draw himself...as a pirate. He got the idea on a whim from some of the books he'd been reading lately. He laid back on the bench that held so many happy memories and got to work, humming tunelessly.

Emma went through a second draft of her paper, clarifying a few points, correcting typos. She was pretty happy with it; she thought it would earn her a solid A. The other was more worrisome so she spent a while going through all her notes, rearranging things into a more coherent argument. If she could get the first draft done then she could take a break, hang out with Killian for a bit. It was odd being in his home, doing homework. Odd but not unpleasant. He had his art to keep him busy; she hoped he was working on something special. She was excited to hear that he wanted to return to creating art, rather than just teaching it. His kind of talent should be shared with the world.

She went to get more coffee; her phone buzzed in her pocket. “Mom?”

“Hey honey. Everything okay there? They're talking about the storm on the news.”

“Yeah, we're good. Waiting it out.”

“You have everything you need?”

“Yep. Doing homework as we speak. Well, technically, this is a coffee break, but still. Homework.”

“How's Elsa?”

Emma wet her lips nervously. “She's good. You know how she is. She lives for the cold.”

“I remember,” Ingrid chuckled. “Tell her I saw hello. Still planning on arriving Wednesday night?”

“If the airport is clear. They think it's going to stop soon.” That technically wasn't a lie. Would it be so terrible if she missed the holiday with her mom? Miss all that Black Friday frenzy? Ingrid loved it; Emma could take it or leave it. And she could stay with Killian if the airport wasn't open in time for her flight.

“Fingers crossed. It feels like ages since I saw you.”

“You saw me a month ago, Mom.”

“I know that,” Ingrid said tenderly. “But next year you'll be who knows where. And you'll be too busy for your mother.”

“I will make time to see you, Mom. I promise.”

“I'm sure you will. Be safe and I'll see you on Wednesday.”

“Okay, see you then hopefully.” There were so many other things Emma wanted to say, about law school, about Killian. She wanted to ask Ingrid's advice, actually talk to her about boys and she couldn't. But it was only two more weeks. Maybe Killian could stop by and visit before he went to England to see his brother. Although, Emma still didn't know if he was actually going.

She grabbed a fresh mug of coffee and frowned. She could go back to work or she could find Killian and take a break. She glanced at the clock; it was well after noon. She'd been working for nearly four hours. Surely that merited a break.

She walked back toward his studio, but he wasn't there. He'd been there though. Supplies were scattered on the side table and towels were tucked into the gaps of the French doors. Emma shivered a little and went back the way she'd come. She searched the second floor, but he wasn't in the master bedroom nor the guest room.

“Killian?” she called.

“Up here, lass,” he called back.

Emma found the awkward ladder that led to what she presumed was the attic. She climbed it with one hand, which was trickier than she thought. The air was much chiller up here. “What's up?” she asked, her breath condensing.

“You didn't have to come up, love.”

“Curiosity killed the cat?”

“I was just looking through some old things. You should back down to the warmth.”

“What's in the box?”

“Few things from my childhood. Guess I was feeling nostalgic.”

Emma shivered again. “I like nostalgic. But maybe downstairs? I can make us grilled cheese?” She wanted to know things about him, if he wanted to share.

Killian put the toy he was examining back into the box. “Is it lunchtime already?”

“Yep. Hungry?”

“Are you procrastinating, darling?” he asked with a smirk.

“I'm taking a break. I've deemed it break time.”

“Far be it for me to argue.” He stood and picked up the box, waiting for Emma to descend the ladder first. She'd finished her coffee (it was really cold in the attic) so the climb down wasn't quite as harrowing as the climb up. Killian followed her after handing down the box. It was heavier than she expected.

Killian carried the box down to the living room; Emma started on lunch. “I finished the sketch for the nursery,” he said casually as she buttered some bread.

“Really? May I see?”

Killian hurried back to the studio to fetch it. He seemed a bit apprehensive when he held it out for her perusal. “I may still change my mind,” he warned.

Emma looked down at the page. She recognized Killian straight away, but what was he wearing? And was that a hook? “Captain Hook?” Although it looked nothing like the Disney version.

“It was just a silly idea.”

“No, no! I like it! But why a pirate?”

Killian shrugged. “I've been reading about them lately.”

She remembered the book on his nightstand. “Peter Pan?”

“Among others. The book is much better the film.”

“Which one?”

“All of them?”

Emma put down her utensils and gave him a hug. “You make a very dashing pirate, Killian.”

“He's missing something though.”

“What's that?”

He pulled out another sheet. “A pirate queen.” This sketch was her, also dressed as a pirate. She grinned; it was very good.

“There were lady pirates, you know.” She learned about that in one of her history classes like a million years ago.

“Indeed. I thought perhaps we could keep these and I'd do another for the wee one. Much more child friendly, of course.”

Emma grinned. “Of course.” She gently laid the sketches aside and pulled him down for a kiss. The simple kiss turned into a full on makeout session; damn, could he kiss. He pushed her back against the counter, pressing his body firmly against hers.

“Everything okay, love?” Killian asked, peppering her cheek with fervent kisses.

“Perfect.” She brought his mouth back to hers, giving him one final lingering kiss before gently pushing him away. “Still hungry?”

He chuckled; she was so cute with her rosy cheeks and kiss swollen lips. “Very.” And not necessarily for food, but he decided to humor her. They could have kitchen sex another time.

Emma rolled her eyes at him and went back to her sandwiches. She knew what he'd been thinking; hell, she'd been thinking it too. But they could control themselves for one day, right? It wasn't her fault that he was sex on legs. “So why the trip down memory lane?” she asked, changing the subject.

Killian took a seat across from her, downing a long pull of his beer. “I talked to Liam earlier, while you were working. Got me thinking, I suppose.”

Emma added cheese slices to the bread. “About what?”

“Well, he's going to be a father, a real proper one, not like he was with me. Liam's eight years older than me,” Killian explained. “When our dad left, Liam looked after me. He was more of a dad to me than that ponce ever was. Even though he didn't really understand me.”

Emma frowned. “How come?”

“Liam was the athlete; he used to dream about playing for England. He was good too. I played a little, but I was more into art and such. Always drawing. But Liam was constantly dragging me out to practice with him. When our mum got sick, he had to give it up. Went to school, became an engineer.”

“Did he not want you to go to art school?”

Killian took another sip. “We had a huge row about it. He said I couldn't make a living as an artist, that I needed something practical. I said that I didn't care about sodding practicality, I just wanted to learn.” They'd made up later, but their relationship never really fully recovered. The closeness was gone or at least strained.

Emma looked at him thoughtfully. “Is that why you don't want to go home?”

“Liam wants me to stay. To move back to England permanently. I love my brother, Emma, my life isn't there anymore. I just don't know how to tell him that without causing him pain.”

She wished she knew what to say, but she didn't have any frame of reference. She had no siblings. Didn't have family of any kind until Ingrid took her in. So she stepped around the counter and hugged him. Killian buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. “We'll figure something out,” she said quietly. “Maybe if he knows you're happy...”

Killian smiled, touching her cheek. “I am _very_ happy now, love. I miss him. I miss Molly. But I'd miss you more.”

“I'd really like to meet him. And Molly.”

He traced her lips with his thumb. He had a crazy thought. “Perhaps you'd like to come with me? Christmas in London?”

“Are you serious?” She had a passport, but the farthest she'd been was Canada. Weren't plane tickets expensive?

“Why wouldn't I be serious?”

Emma chewed her lip. “Killian, that's a huge step. Not to mention expensive.”

“I've got a fair bit of savings stashed away, love. I would be happy to take you.”

She shook her head. “It's too much. Those tickets are what? A thousand dollars?”

“Most likely.”

Emma sighed, thinking. She really did want to meet his family. She had break off anyway. But there was no way she could afford a ticket on her own. “Let me pay for half,” she said at last. It would be tight, but she was fairly certain she could manage it.

“Half of _your_ ticket?”

“Yeah. Poor college student here, buddy.”

“Emma...”

“It would be a terrible first impression,” she pointed out. “For Liam. How do you think he's going to react when he sees your girlfriend is five years younger than you, one you've been telling him doesn't exist? And still in school?”

Damn, she had a point. He'd just find a way to make it up to her. “Point taken, lass. But he'll love you...eventually.”

“Maybe. But if we want our families to accept us, we've got to do it right.”

Killian cupped her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you, Emma. Nothing that Liam could say will change that.”

“So we're really doing this then?”

“If you want to. I'd love to squire you around, lass.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Cool your jets, Mr. Darcy. We need to see my mother first.”

“I've been thinking about that actually.”

“Have you?”

“Aye. I'm...how did she phrase it? Cute?” He gave her a lop sided smile. “I think I can charm her easily enough.”

“It's going to be so weird though, now that she's met you. I just hope she's not angry at me for lying.”

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “She just wants you to be happy, love. If she sees that you are...all the rest will fall into place.”

Emma leaned her forehead against his, sighing. “I am happy, you know. More than I thought I could be.”

“I'm glad to hear that. It's all I want. To make you happy.”

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him again. She just couldn't get enough of his lips on hers. He pulled her closer, until she was standing firmly between his legs. She sighed into it, her fingers threading through his thick dark locks. Killian deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up under her sweater and lightly stroking her bare skin.

“Hmm.” Emma shivered, skin tingling from his touch.

“Aye,” he murmured, chasing her lips. “Could kiss you for hours, love.”

She grinned. “I've got nowhere to be.”

“Don't tempt me, Emma.” Mouth on hers _again_ , tongue sliding into her mouth. She let out a tiny squeak, his hand gliding up her spine. “Bloody siren, you are.”

“I...oh...didn't do anything,” she protested weakly.

“You _exist_ , my love. That's enough.” He wanted to make love to her right here, but it was a snow day and she needed to work. He kissed her a little bit longer, gathering the willpower to pull away. “Perhaps you should make lunch now, before I do something rash.”

“Like what?” she asked innocently.

“Like lay you out on the counter and devour you.”

“Maybe I'd like that.”

“I'm sure you would. But if we start, I won't stop until you're an incoherent mess only capable of whispering my name.”

Emma groaned, her clit pulsing. “Don't say things like that if you're not going to follow through.”

“I will happily fulfill your desires...after you finish studying.”

“Oh, incentive. I like it, Professor.”

“Hmm, perhaps we should get you one of those short skirts, since you appear to be fond of my occupation.”

She cocked a brow at him. “A school girl fantasy, huh?”

He grinned lecherously. “You started it.”

“Did not.”

He moved his hands down to her ass, squeezing firmly. “Go. Play later.”

“Ugh, fine.” She moved back around to where her sandwiches lay, waiting. She turned on the stove and cooked them, along with some tomato soup. It was the perfect lunch for the cold weather. When Killian pronounced it a success, she rolled her eyes but found herself blushing anyway.

It was over lunch that he showed her some of the things in his box. A few old doodles, some broken toys, a photo album. She got to see him as a child and as a shy gangly teenager. He was honestly cute and she told him so. It was his turn to blush as he pulled out some old school ribbons and other trinkets. Emma got to see a whole new side to her artist and it made her heart melt. Her only regret was that she couldn't share similar things with him.

“I have something like this,” she said, examining a picture of Liam and Killian as boys. “It's at my mom's house though.”

“Perhaps we could take a peak when we visit.”

She smiled. “I'd like that.” She knew she could trust him with her secrets. “Who's this?” Killian looked over her shoulder; his face went from curious to unreadable in a blink. He was quiet for a long tense beat. Comprehension hit her in a rush. God, she was an idiot. “Nevermind.”

“No, it's okay,” Killian said heavily. “That's Milah. I didn't even know I still had it.” He thought he'd purged every reminder of her. Clearly he was wrong. He looked so happy in that photo; it made him sick.

Emma hurriedly put the photo away. “Here,” she said, digging for her phone. She had to dig through Facebook but eventually she found a picture of her and Neal together. “That's Neal.”

Killian scowled. “He looks like a bloody wanker.”

“Well, that's what he turned out to be, right?” She frowned at the picture, a faint echo of the old pain gripping her heart. “Bastard.”

“I'm so sorry he hurt you, Emma.”

“I'm sorry she hurt you.”

“Tis but an old hurt, lass.”

She cupped his cheek, thumbing the scar there. It was times like this that she loved him so much her chest hurt. “Maybe we could add a happy memory to the box?”

“What do you have in mind?”

She smiled and flipped the camera on her phone around. “Smile.” Killian shocked the hell out of her by pulling her into his lap. He held her tightly, grinning, happy crinkles around his eyes as she snapped the photo. She took a couple more for good measure. “You have a printer around here?”

“Sure.” He let her down and went to fetch the printer while she hooked her phone up to her laptop to copy the picture. It took them some time to set up the printer and put all the wires in place, but soon Emma printed out copies of all the pictures she'd taken. Killian put one in his box, carefully replacing the picture of him and his ex with one of them. Then to her surprise, he got a frame from his studio and put another picture on his tiny bookshelf, right next to one of him and Liam.

“Um, okay,” she said, a bit confused.

“Would you rather it go some place else?”

“No, I was just wondering why you were putting it up at all.”

He frowned. “If it makes you uncomfortable...”

Emma came to stand next to him. “No, it's not that.” She took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. “It's just...that's an official couple's thing. Photos in the house.”

Sometimes he forgot that she'd had such a bad experience with love and relationships. It was easy to do, as they melded together so well. “We make a very handsome couple, love.”

Emma laughed. “Yeah. I've gotten so used to not being able to show that outside of here, but we really are a couple.”

“Not for much longer, Emma. Soon, everyone will know just how happy we are.”

Emma leaned up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “Give me a couple more hours and I'll be done.”

“Sounds fair.”

“What will you do?”

He shrugged. “Read for a bit? I can go somewhere else if you want.”

“No, stay. It'll give me more incentive to hurry.”

That was exactly what happened. Killian offered to clean up the kitchen while Emma went back to her work. Then he took her borrowed copy of _The Death of Superman_ to his armchair and read. Emma kept sneaking glances at him; he looked thoroughly engrossed in the story. She had a list of other comics she thought he'd enjoy; she'd have to look and see if there were any that featured pirates. He'd really enjoy that.

It took her three hours, not two, but she did finish the first draft of her second paper. She knew better than to try and edit it; she needed to step back from it for a few days, clear her head. She could examine it during the long Thanksgiving weekend. She thought about looking over her notes for the LSATs, but they'd been patient long enough. If school was closed again tomorrow, she could do it then.

Emma closed her laptop and stood, stretching her arms over her head. She knew it was worth it, but sitting hunched over her computer for hours at time wasn't very glamorous or fun.

“All finished, lass?”

“For now. I've got more to do, if school's closed again tomorrow.”

“Care to join me?”

She grinned. “I thought you'd never ask.” She waltzed over to his chair and sat on the upholstered arm. “Good?”

“Aye. These splash pages are very well done.”

“Splash pages? How'd you know that?”

“I told you, love. I've been reading.”

Did he do that just so he could discuss comics with her? Sweet, ridiculous man. Emma slithered down into his lap again; Killian chuckled, making room for her. “You seem to be doing a lot of that.”

“I have many pursuits.”

“Thank you.”

“I appreciate a good story, Emma. No matter the medium.” He kissed her brow. “Care to finish it with me?”

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“We go outside and make snow angels.”

Killian laughed. “Snow angels?”

“Yeah, they're when...”

“I understand the concept, love. I just thought you'd want to stay indoors.”

She blushed. “I did. And now I wanna go outside and play in the snow.” She remembered Elsa's warning. “Just out back. Please?”

Killian grinned, absolutely unable to resist her child like enthusiasm. “As you wish, my love.”

“You really are channeling Westley when you do that,” Emma muttered, laying her head on his shoulder to read the rest of the story.

Killian hummed. “I suppose I am. But you understand what I'm saying, unlike Buttercup.”

She smiled to herself. “Yeah, I do. And she caught on in the end.”

He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. They spent another half hour finishing the comic, curled together in the chair. Then after, they got bundled up to go outside. Emma didn't have her usual snow boots, but they wouldn't be out there very long. The snow was still falling but not quite as heavy as it had been. Killian's street still hadn't been plowed; the snow covered the wheelwells on her Bug. She'd have a hell of a time digging out when the time came.

“Do you even own a shovel?” Emma asked as they walked around back. The French doors in his studio had too much snow pressed against them to open the door.

“I think there's one in the supply closet,” Killian said, thinking.

“You think?”

“Love, if I don't have one, I'll just borrow the Hendricks' shovel. It's fine. Besides, I doubt either of us is going anywhere until Wednesday.”

They clomped through the high snow; the weatherman really hadn't been kidding. It was the light fluffy snow so it drifted in the wind. Snowflakes bit at her exposed face; she didn't have a big enough scarf. Still, they trundled on to the back of the house, following the setting sun.

“It'll be dark soon, lass. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Scared?”

His gloved hand stroked her cheek. “I just don't want you to fall ill.”

_Aw._ “I'll be fine. Five minutes and we can go back.”

“This a good spot then?”

“You've never made a snow angel?”

“I don't believe so. Liam and I were more the snowball types.”

“Why am I not surprised? Okay, let's do this.” She unceremoniously flopped down in the snow on her back. It was cold but she wouldn't be there long. She felt a happy bubble well in her chest as Killian followed suit next to her. They shared a look and Emma started giggling madly as they went to work on their angels, snow flying everywhere.

Killian finished first, his nose and ears red, snow sticking to his scruff. He managed to get up and offered a hand to Emma. She took it and flung her arms around him as soon as she was upright. He hugged her as tightly as their bulky coats would allow. He loved seeing her so happy. They looked down at their handiwork; two perfect snow angels side by side. Killian snapped a picture, then snapped another of their grinning ecstatic faces. He tucked his phone away. “Lass?”

“Yeah?”

He bent down in the snow, picking up a handful of snow. “Duck!” Emma screeched and ran off (which was hard because of the high snow) as Killian tossed a flimsy snowball at her. He missed. Emma quickly got him back, sneaking up from behind and shoving a handful of icy snow down his back. Killian growled and retaliated, the entire enterprise devolving into a clumsy messy wet cold snowball fight. But they were laughing and yelling and generally having the time of their lives. Finally, panting and shivering, Killian led them back indoors.

“What would you say to a hot bath?” Killian asked.

“I'd say you are my hero.” She tugged off her wet coat, hat and scarf, hanging them up on the peg next to Killian's. She left her shoes to dry too and followed him upstairs. Killian started filling the tub while she took his phone to find some music. She loved just soaking in the tub with him. She looked at the pictures he'd taken, smiling to herself. “Could I have these?” she asked.

“Just send them to yourself, love.” He looked over her shoulder. “We look ridiculous.”

“But it was fun.”

He kissed her chilled brow. “Aye. Now let's get you warmed up.”

Emma stripped of her wet clothes and pulled her hair up in an inelegant knot, shivering until she could join Killian in the warm bath. She sighed as she leaned back, the water just hot enough without being scalding. “This is heaven. Thank you.”

He pulled her back against his chest, arms around her waist. “You deserve it.” They fell silent, the warmth soaking into cool muscles, the soft music drifting over them. It felt like a perfect moment. Killian wanted to bottle it, preserve it, this moment where they were blissfully happy.

“Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“If we do move somewhere, we need a tub like this. I don't want to give this up.”

Killian tried to suppress his smile, but failed. He wanted nothing more than to give her a home of their own, filled with whatever she wanted. “I'll be sure to put it on the list, darling.”

“Stop smiling.”

“I don't know what you mean.” His stomach muscles contracted with silent laughter.

“Don't do that in front of my mother. We tell her we're moving in together right away—not that I'm saying we are—she might kill you.”

“We wouldn't want that.”

“Then who would draw baths for me? Rub my feet? Cook me yummy meals?”

“A maid?”

“As a law student? Dream on, babe.”

“Hmm, I like that.”

“What? Babe? It's just a silly name.”

“Aye, but it's _mine_ now. Just like you.”

Emma turned around in the water, straddling his lap. “Am I?”

Suddenly a frisson of fear slid down his spine. Had his playful banter gone too far? “I'm sorry, lass, I didn't mean...”

“Hey, I know what you meant.” Water dripped down her arms as she cupped his face. “And I am. Just so we're clear. And you're mine.” Her smile flickered for a second then she was kissing him, kissing him with clear intent, no longer cold but warm and real and _alive._

 


	17. Chapter 17

Emma collapsed on her teenage bed, exhausted. She was home after a long day of classes and traveling, fighting her way through the aftermath of the snowstorm. They'd cleared the roads so classes could resume on the final day before the long Thanksgiving weekend, which meant she had one class with Killian after spending two whole days with him. Still, she was happy for the extra time, as she'd only been gone for a few hours and she already missed him. It was like a dull ache in her chest, knowing he was so far away.

Her flight had been one of the first out of town, Killian insisted on dropping her off. She only had one bag; she could have managed by herself, but she had to admit enjoying the lingering, toe curling goodbye kiss. A brief hop to Philadelphia then a change of planes for Boston; it was late by the time Ingrid got her at the airport. She dozed on the drive to their quaint New England home and now all she wanted was sleep. But she promised Killian she'd call when she arrived, safe and sound.

Emma paused to change into her pink flannel pajamas; she planned on sleeping the moment they hung up. She yanked down the bedspread and climbed back into the narrow twin bed as she dialed his number.

“Hello, love,” came Killian's low accented voice. “Safe and sound?”

She smiled, happy to hear that voice. “Yeah. Had a short delay in Philly, but I got here okay.”

“You sound tired, lass.”

She stifled a yawn. “I am, a little. I slept on the way home from the airport.”

“How's your mother? All is well?”

“Yeah, she seems good. I haven't really talked to her much, since it's late and all. You okay?”

“Aye. Miss you though.”

She flushed. “I miss you too. It's weird being back here...talking to you. Like a worlds colliding kind of thing.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no, I just...didn't expect it. A lot's changed this semester.”

“For me as well, Emma. I never cared about this bloody holiday now I'm cursing it because it's taken you away.”

He sounded so vehement and frustrated, but she understood what he meant. If they didn't need to hide, he could have come with her, met her mother. “It's only for four days.” But she didn't sound very convincing.

“I know and you should spend time with your mum. I'm just a greedy bastard, love.”

“We got spoiled the last couple of days, huh?” she said with a dry laugh.

“It could be like that all the time,” he reminded her. “I like having you home with me.”

“I like being there, but I do still have a lease. And...” She didn't want to think about it, but what _if_ something happened? What if they didn't work out? Emma had never felt this way about anyone, not even Neal. She wanted that future they talked about, albeit in nascent form. The fact that he was willing to come with her to law school was extraordinary. But she couldn't think about any of that before they came out to their families and friends.

Killian let her trail off, not calling her on her hesitation. He knew she loved him as he loved her, but she was young. The best way to prove himself was to give her the space she needed to figure things out. He could do that, even if not having her there with him made his chest ache. “How's the weather there?”

Emma sighed, disappointed in herself. She really did like the domesticity they found during the storm; it was comforting, the ease of his company, reading, cooking, bathing, sleeping together. Even now she wanted to curl up beside him and let him hold her as they fell asleep. Still, she thought maintaining her own space was important, at least for now. “Cold. The storm passed south of here, so no snow. But I don't have my human space heater unfortunately.”

Killian laughed. “Is that why you keep me around, love? To keep you warm?”

Emma smiled, relieved that he got her attempt at lightening the mood. “It's definitely a perk. You're very...hot.”

“Is that so? And how would the lady wish me to warm her?”

Emma bit her lip, instantly recognizing his gravelly tone. Even over the phone it sent a shiver down her spine. “Killian...”

“Yes?”

“My mother's here.”

“She's not in the room with you, is she?”

“No, I'm in my bed...”

“Funny, so am I.”

“This isn't funny.”

“I never said it was, lass. But I _do_ miss you.”

“Me too. But we shouldn't...”

“Says the lass who stripped in my office and rode me in the bloody chair,” he growled, which did _nothing_ to her except make her want him.

Emma groaned. “I hate you.”

“You love me, Emma. Admit it, you're curious about what I'd do if I were there right now.”

“We wouldn't fit in this bed,” she replied. “It's too small.”

“Afraid to snuggle close to the one you love? Wrap around me as we make love over and over?”

Damn her imagination. She could almost see his dark head between her thighs, tonguing her to oblivion, shattering the last remnants of the girl she used to be. She wasn't that little girl Ingrid had taken in; she was a grown woman who had her very talented lover on the phone. “So how would you keep me warm?” she asked, heat pooling low in her belly.

“What are you wearing?” Killian tossed off the covers and pushed his pajama bottoms down over his hips; he was already half hard just talking to her.

“My flannel pajamas,” she said honestly, only belatedly realizing how unsexy they were.

“The cute pink ones?”

“How'd you know?”

“I pay attention, lass. And I would love to strip them off you.”

Emma flushed, squirming under the covers. “Always with the naked,” she teased.

“You're a very desirable woman, Emma. You have no idea how bloody hard it is to share you with my students.”

“Not for much longer. Then I'll be all yours. Your own personal model.”

“You're so much more than that, my love. You're the missing half of my soul.”

She had to swallow hard around the sudden lump in her throat. Stupid romantic man. She hated that he was so far away. “I love you,” she whispered softly. “So much, Killian.”

“I know, darling. I wish I could show you how much right now.”

“Please tell me,” she replied. “Please.”

Killian wet his lips, picturing her in those adorable pajamas, laid out before him. “Hmm, I'd strip you, slowly, piece by piece,” he murmured, his hand drifting down his stomach. He adjusted the phone, breath hitching as his palm brushed his cock. “Nibbling at your skin. When the semester's over I'm going shower you with love bites, remind you that you're mine.”

Emma inhaled sharply, clit throbbing in response. She normally wasn't one for hickies or scratches, but she did enjoy giving them to  _him._ But marking her would be a give away, so Killian had to restrain himself. “Yours,” she affirmed, feeling hot in her flannel and blankets. She shucked the blanket off and opened her shirt. “Oh god.”

“Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, eyes drifting closed. It was easier to imagine it was his large rough hands on her body if she couldn't see. “Ohhh.”

Killian cursed, hips rolling upward. “Bet your flushed pink for me, love. Want to suck on those pretty nipples, make them nice and stiff.” Emma twirled an aching nipple between her fingers, groaning softly. Wetness pooled between her thighs; she was getting slicker by the minute. “You taste so sweet, lass. Like sunshine.”

“Killian, I...shit,” she panted, phone threatening to slip down. But she couldn't put him on speaker; her mother was in the next room, hopefully asleep. “More.”

He chuckled darkly. “So needy, Emma. You love the way I touch you, don't you?”

Emma wet her lips, massaging her breasts. “Yes,” she breathed. “It's so good.”

“Are you naked yet?”

Emma hurriedly shucked off her pants. “I am now.”

“Spread your legs, love. You're always so wet for me. I bet you're soaked.”

Emma dragged a single finger through her swollen slit, feeling the slickness. “So wet, Killian. God.”

Killian groaned, picturing her touching herself. She'd only done it for him once or twice, but he got very turned on watching her pleasure herself. His fist wrapped loosely around his aching cock; he moaned as he started to stroke.

“Fuck,” Emma whimpered, knowing exactly what he was doing. She was such a sucker for him touching himself. “I want you so much.”

“I want to taste you, feel you come on my tongue,” he replied, fist curling tighter around him. “Can't get enough of your sweetness.”

Emma rubbed her clit in slow circles, hips rising off the bed. He wasn't kidding about that either, she knew. The other day, he went down on her for an hour just to prove he could. It felt like she skin would melt off her bones, as he made her come over and over. “But I want you inside me,” she whined. “ _Fucking_ me.”

Killian moaned, wanting nothing more than to be there with her, giving her what she desired. There was nothing he loved more than being joined with her, feeling whole. “I know, darling. Touch yourself, pretend it's me, sliding in and out of your wet greedy cunt.”

“Ohhhh,” Emma breathed, two fingers plunging inside her hole. She was soaked, dripping, fingers slipping in effortlessly. “Oh god.”

“That's it, lass, lemme hear you.” He pumped his cock more firmly, his release coiling tighter and tighter. He wanted her there first. “I'm right behind you, sliding in and out, filling you up just the way you like. You're so tight, Emma. Feels so bloody good around me.”

Emma added a third finger, stretching her, tearing a sharp gasp from her throat. She was so close, her sanity hanging by a thread. “Oh, oh, oh, oh,” she panted. “I need...oh god, Killian!” She circled her clit with her thumb, her body shuddering. “Oh god, oh god, I'm...fuck! I'm coming...coming...yes!” Her vision went white behind her closed lids, pleasure suffusing every pore.

Killian let out a strangled moan, pumping furiously, crying out her name as he fell, stomach and hand coated with his seed. He sagged back into the mattress, spent. He could hear Emma panting on the other end of the phone, which just made him yearn for her. “Lass?”

“I'm...here. Damn.”

“I hope that's a good damn,” he chuckled weakly.

“It is.” She blew out a long breath. “I hope my mom didn't hear that.”

“It would be a tad difficult to explain.”

“Shut up. You're a bad influence.”

“I beg to differ. I lived a very quiet life before a certain blonde lass stepped into my office.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“Of course not. I could never regret meeting you, my love.” He quietly swung off the bed to go clean up.

“Good thing Elsa showed me that flier,” Emma said, yanking her pants back on one handed. She'd have to wash her hands before she could sleep.

“Aye.” Killian got back into bed, huddling under the covers. “I should let you sleep.”

“I'm okay.” She stifled another yawn.

“You're exhausted. I'm sorry I kept you up.”

“I like talking to you before I go to sleep. I usually have good dreams,” she admitted, shrugging into her shirt.

“Is that so?”

Emma blushed, even though he couldn't see her. “Yeah. Is that weird?”

“Not at all. I just wish I could kiss you goodnight before those dreams.”

“Soon. I'll be home soon.” And she meant it. She was still a little afraid, but he made her want to conquer that fear and build a life with him.

“I love you, Emma.”

“Love you too, Killian.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“You too. Goodnight.” They disconnected and Emma hurried to the bathroom to clean up. It didn't take her long to fall asleep.

* * *

“You slept late,” Ingrid said, peering up from her recipe.

Emma yawned, stretching her arms over her head. She looked at the clock. It was nearly noon. Wow. She shrugged. “I was tired, I guess. You know, traveling and everything.” She absolutely would not mention that she had late night phone sex with her boyfriend. “Turkey smells great.”

“You missed the parade.”

“Oops?”

Ingrid smiled. “I DVR'd it. We can watch it now, if you want.”

“Let me shower and get dressed. I've got airport grime on me.” Ingrid laughed and went back to her cooking, leaving Emma to shower. She took her time, trying to enjoy being home. This year was so different from previous ones; this year she had someone waiting for her. The next time she was here, Killian would be with her, meeting Ingrid...again. That would be nice. She hoped.

Once she was dressed, Emma threw herself into Thanksgiving things, helping Ingrid cook, eating a very light lunch and watching the Macy's parade like they did every year. She still felt that dull ache but spending time with her mother was important. They spent the afternoon going through the newspaper ads, planning their strategy for Black Friday. Ingrid thrived on the hustle and bustle of hundreds of shoppers looking for deals. Emma wasn't as gung ho about it, but it was something they did together. And for a kid who'd never had a parent to do things with, Emma lept at every moment they got together. But there was a tinge of bittersweetness in the air. Next year, Emma would be off to law school, well on her way to forging her own career and these mother/daughter times would be all the more precious.

They wouldn't be their little family for two anymore and Emma had to admit that made her a little sad. Ingrid was all she could have wanted in a mom; she was lucky. She didn't know when (or even if) she'd have kids of her own, but if she did, she wanted to be as good of a mom as Ingrid was.

“You okay, honey?” Ingrid asked, as they carefully set the table for their small Thanksgiving meal. Every year they were invited to spend the holiday with Ingrid's sisters, the larger family, but Ingrid liked having just the two of them. “You looked far away.”

Emma shrugged. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am that you picked me.”

Ingrid looked surprised for a second, then her eyes welled with tears. “Oh Emma.” She put down her bowl of mashed potatoes and pulled Emma into a tight hug. “I love you so much, my beautiful girl.” She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “I would choose you a hundred...no, a thousand times over. We're family.”

Emma smiled. “I know. I guess it just hit me...” She blushed. “When I was little, I hoped...you're everything I wanted in a mom. Thank you.”

Ingrid looked like she might cry again, but she refrained. “What's brought the nostalgia on, Emma? I know it's not Gerda's recipe for cranberry sauce!”

Emma laughed. “No, nothing like that. Next year I'll be at law school and this could be our last Thanksgiving, just the two of us.”

“Planning on bringing someone next year?” Ingrid asked slyly.

Emma's eyes widened. “What? No! I mean...who knows? I could...meet someone. Or you could!” But Ingrid was laughing and shaking her head. “What?!”

“Emma, you don't have to play coy with me. I'm your mother. If you wanted to bring your boyfriend, all you had to do was ask.”

Emma was frozen, literally stunned into silence. Ingrid knew. Ingrid  _knew. Holy shit, Ingrid knew._ “How?”

Ingrid gestured for them to sit before the meal got cold. She grinned, clearly thrilled. “It's that professor, right? The cute art professor...”

“Killian.” Emma's voice was hardly more than a whisper, her mind still reeling.

“Yes, Killian. English, handsome. Emma, sweetie, it was written all over your faces.”

Color drained out of her face. If Ingrid could tell...then surely other people could too? Oh, this was much worse than she thought.

“Emma, what's wrong? Aren't you happy?”

She swallowed. “It's complicated,” she said at last. “We were trying to keep it a secret...until the end of the semester.”

“Because you work for him?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Ingrid looked thoughtful. “Like I said, I'm your mother. I only figured it out because you looked so happy.” She smiled. “I've rarely seen you so happy; it's wonderful, Emma.”

Emma started putting food on her plate, using the familiar motions to steady her. “You're not mad?”

Ingrid looked scandalized. “Why would I be mad? Because you didn't tell me?” Emma nodded. “I assumed you had your reasons. I trust you, Emma. You always have a reason.”

“I wanted to tell you.” Now that it was out, it felt like a small weight had been lifted. They weren't entirely out of the woods yet, but this was going so much better than she could have hoped. “But Killian and I agreed to wait until the end of the semester.”

“Probably wise,” Ingrid agreed. She scooped some candied yams onto her plate. “So tell me everything!”

Emma laughed, wondering how this got to be her life. Over the course of the meal, she told Ingrid almost everything. How she and Killian met, modeling for his classes (skimming over the more risque parts, she wasn't insane), the feelings that developed. Ingrid clapped and made adorable sounds at all the appropriate places, thoroughly pleased for her daughter.

“Oh, I'm so happy for you!” Ingrid cried. “He sounds amazing; I already like him.”

“Mom, you met him.”

“But I didn't _know_ then.” She sipped at her drink. “But what do you think? Is it serious?”

Emma nodded slowly. “I love him. I've never...” She shrugged. “I've never felt this way. But things have been so good...I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, I guess.”

Ingrid covered Emma's hand with hers. “Emma, relationships, real ones, ones worth fighting for, are gonna have ups and downs. Good times and bad times. You'll fight...he'll forget the toilet seat or not take out the garbage, or get paint on your clothes...something. But that doesn't mean that you just give up. You work it out, compromise. If you love him as much as I think you do, then there is no other shoe. He sounds like the one.”

Emma bit lip. She'd never heard her mother speak like this before. “But we've only been together two months.”

Ingrid smiled sadly. “Time doesn't matter when you're truly in love. You should cherish every moment with that person.” She sighed, tugging a chain out from under her shirt. A locket hung from the end of it. Emma had only seen it a few times, but Ingrid never took it off. “When I was...oh perhaps a year or two older than you are now...I loved someone. His name was Stephen. Curly brown hair, hazel eyes.” She laughed. “Spilled coffee on me actually. But he was really sweet.” Emma tried to smile but she could tell the story didn't have a happy ending. “We started dating..it was, well, magical really. But then he relapsed. He'd survived cancer...some kind of lymphoma, I think...but it...it came back. He got weaker and weaker, but I stayed with him, because...he was the one.” Ingrid sniffed, a tear rolling down her cheek. “The best and worst six months of my life. Until I found you.”

Emma got up and hurried around the table, hugging her mom tight. She'd had no idea. She was the last person to want to unpack painful memories, so she'd never asked about the locket. It was simply there, a piece of her mother. They both cried; Emma felt utterly silly for her fears about moving forward with Killian. Truly moving forward.

“I'm sorry,” Ingrid said. “I didn't mean to steal the spotlight.”

Emma shook her head. “I'm glad you told me. Do you have a picture of him?”

Ingrid got up and headed for her bedroom. She emerged with an entire photo album. They spent the next hour looking at the pictures, reminiscing. Emma showed Ingrid some of the pictures she'd taken of her and Killian; she noticed that she and Ingrid had similar looks of happiness in the pictures.

“Killian asked me to go to England at Christmas to meet his family,” she told Ingrid over a class of wine. They were cleaning up, Ingrid rinsing while Emma put things in the dishwasher.

“What did you say?”

“I said I would.”

“Good for you. Just do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Bring him by here first. I'd like to spend some time with you both.”

Emma smiled. “Not a problem. We were gonna do that after I take the LSATs.”

“I might even be able to fly to London, right round the holiday. Then we could all be together.”

“That would be amazing. I think we'll have to check with Killian's brother first. Liam and his wife are having a baby.”

“Oh, how exciting!” That launched them into another talk about what she knew about Killian's background and family. It reminded her of how much she didn't know yet. She supposed she'd have to get answers soon.

She and Ingrid talked for a long time, but eventually they had to get to bed. Black Friday sales came early. Emma decided to call Killian; she had to let him know about what just happened.

“Emma? Is something wrong?”

“Hello to you too.”

Killian sighed. “Sorry. It's late. I expected you to be in bed already. Did you have a good day?”

She huddled under the covers. “I did actually. But that's not why I called.”

“Pray tell, love.”

“How would you feel if I said that Ingrid knows about us?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Killian was frozen, unsure what he was feeling. “I, uh, think that depends on how she took the news, lass.”

“I didn't tell her. She already knew. Has known this whole time.”

“Truly? Is she...was she angry?”

Emma laughed. “Surprisingly no. She kind of ambushed me, to be honest. She wants to meet you...again.”

“I would like that as well, I think. Are you all right?”

She bit her lip. “Yeah. It's a relief. I didn't like lying to her.”

“I know, love. Can't say I'm fond of it myself.”

“I told her everything, well almost. She knows about us, how we met, going to London for Christmas. She was so excited.”

Killian smiled. “She just wants you to be happy.”

She thought about all the other things her mother confided; she didn't want to talk about it over the phone. But just hearing Killian's voice eased the ache in her chest. “Yeah. What fun things did you do today?”

“Oh, a little of this and a little of that. I started a new piece today.”

“Do I get a clue?”

“I don't think so. But I will need your help when you get back.”

“Sounds intriguing. I'm in.”

“I knew I could count on you. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Yes, the perils of Black Friday shopping.” Emma laughed. “It's usually fun, at least the way we do it. Maybe I can show you next year.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“I think you've officially got a standing invitation, babe.”

“I wouldn't miss it.” Killian glanced at the clock. “You should rest.”

“Yeah. Love you, Killian.”

“And I you, Emma. Sweet dreams.”

“You too.” After hanging up, Emma grabbed an extra pillow and hugged it to her chest, wishing her boyfriend was there instead as she fell asleep.

She was awake before the sun rose, following her mother to the car with bleary eyes and protesting muscles. They stopped for coffee on their way to the first store, which helped a little. She had a vested interest in shopping this year because she had to buy a gift for Killian. She'd found something in one of the fliers; she could only hope it was still there when they got to the store. Ingrid pulled into the parking lot, which was already half full. “Ready?”

Emma pulled in her gloves. “Let's do it.”

They got in line with the other shoppers, breath condensing in the frozen air. Most had coffee, some even had thermoses. Emma wasn't quite that dedicated. She handed Ingrid her cup so she could wind her scarf around her head a bit tighter. It was the same one she'd worn to the bar the night of her disastrous blind date. That made her laugh.

“What's so funny?”

“Did I tell you that my friend Mary Margaret tried to set me up on a blind date?”

“No! What happened?”

They spent the next several minutes talking about Emma's dating adventures, trying to keep her boyfriend a secret from everyone but Elsa. Emma was really looking forward to introducing Killian to her friends; god, she was even considering a double date with Mary Margaret and David.

She _must_ be head over heels for that man.

The store opened promptly at five and they were off. Ingrid collected their free gift while Emma grabbed a cart. She'd done this with her mother enough times to understand her job. She mostly pushed the cart and navigated while Ingrid filled it. This time, it was a store they knew well, so it really didn't take that long. They spend more time checking out than they did actually shopping. On and on it went, hopping from one store to the next.

Before the last one, Ingrid had them stop for a late breakfast. “I think I'm gonna need a nap,” she said, yawning into her coffee.

“We did wake up at four in the morning,” Emma pointed out.

Ingrid grinned. “Okay, maybe a little insane. But it's so much fun!”

“Yeah, fun.”

“Oh, come on. It was a little fun. Remember the old lady fighting over that ugly handbag?”

Emma laughed. “Okay, that was hilarious.”

“Did you find Killian's present?”

“How did you...? Ugh, nevermind.” She shoved a bite of eggs into her mouth. “But yeah, I did. Thanks for taking over cart duty.”

“What kind of art does he do?”

Emma shrugged. “All kinds. His classes are drawing, but he paints too. And sculpts a little bit, like Elsa. He's been showing me some things. It's fun.” She was not going to describe the erotic pottery or drawing they'd done. Her mother didn't need to know _that._

“I bet he's talented.”

Emma nodded. “He really is. The things he draws...it looks so real. Like it could walk right off the page. I've got a painting he did of the ocean hanging in my room. It was a birthday gift. What?”

Ingrid shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you hear yourself? You are completely in love with him. It's so wonderful to see, Emma.”

She flushed. “I just...we understand each other, Mom. We've both had our hearts broken, got betrayed. But he's really sweet. Encourages me...” She paused, thinking about how besotted she sounded. “He rubs my feet when I've had a long day at the diner, draws me a bath. Mom, he wants to come with me. When I go to law school. Is that weird?”

“Emma, I know you can take care of yourself. You're smart and resourceful and kind. But I can't be anything but thrilled that you found someone who appreciates that and wants to support you. That's not a bad thing. Do you support his art?”

“Of course!”

“There you go. You're both doing what you're passionate about, but you're doing it together. Having a partner can be a wonderful thing.”

Emma chewed thoughtfully. “Have you ever thought about...dating again?” she asked hesitantly.

Ingrid sighed. “Once or twice. Losing Stephen was so hard...I'm still not sure how I made it. My sisters helped. Mostly, I think it was because I was supposed to find you, be your mom. And that makes me happy, Emma. Stephen would have loved you so much.”

Emma smiled hopefully. “Well, if you ever _do_ want to put your toe out there, I'm okay with that.”

“I'll keep that in mind. But speaking of partners...perhaps you'd like to go back to school early?”

“What? My flight isn't until Sunday!”

“So change it. I always love having you home, Emma, but you miss him. You could surprise him. Have some time together before the last week of classes.”

“I came to spend time with _you.”_

“You can stay as long as you want when you bring Killian to visit. But you have to admit, you're only half here, honey.”

Ingrid wasn't wrong. Killian wasn't far from her thoughts at any given time. If this were a normal Friday, she'd be in his classroom right now, watching him watch her, in their own little world while his students worked. “Are you sure you don't mind?”

“Of course not. We'll go home, rest up, then go have a fancy dinner. Watch a Christmas movie or two. Then tomorrow I'll take you to the airport.”

An extra day snuggling with Killian before she had to grind through her last week of classes? How could she say no to that?

* * *

Killian spent most of the holiday in his studio, which wasn't an unusual occurrence. It had been so in years past. This year, however, he missed Emma dreadfully; he gotten so accustomed to her being in his home. It was easier for him to relax when he knew she'd be coming home after a long day of school and work. Her schedule was so demanding; he enjoyed helping her unwind. It was the least he could do when she so inspired him.

He hadn't been lying when he told her he had a new project. For weeks, he'd wanted to paint her nude, but they hadn't found the time. He'd been working on the sketch since Thursday, recording her from memory. He didn't want to do too much until she returned; he wanted to paint from life, capture the precise flush of her skin as he aroused her. It would be a very private painting, for their eyes alone.

He worked late into the night, pausing only to eat and talk to Emma on the rare occasion she called. He tried not to feel slighted; Emma needed to spend this time with her mother. He didn't want to prejudice the woman against him by being a berk. Time apart was good, right?

That didn't mean he had to like it.

It felt too much like hiding ad he was so sick of hiding. They were in the final days of the semester—finally—but he just wanted it over with. He wanted to spend time with Emma, get to know her mother better and visit his brother. Share with the world how happy Emma Swan made him and start planning for what he hoped would be a happy future.

He nodded to a few of his neighbors as he passed, feet hitting the pavement. The school facilities were closed so this was his only way of exercising until Monday. He jogged before breakfast, ate, then spent most of the day in the studio (until his stomach demanded food again). Snow still covered much of the ground, but the sidewalks were blessedly clear. It was a bright and sunny Saturday morning; only a little over twenty four hours until Emma's return.

After breakfast, he took a quick shower; there was a text from Emma when he emerged. _Not long now_ , it read. _Miss you._

_Miss you too, my love_ , he replied. Smiling, he got dressed and padded to the chilly studio. He fired up the portable heater and retrieved his work. He even turned on some music, the station reminding him of Emma.

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

“Bloody hell,” Killian swore, glancing at the clock. It was two in the afternoon. His stomach was growling but he'd managed to ignore it. The knock came again and Killian tossed his charcoal aside. He wiped his hands quickly on a towel and hurried to the door. He had no idea who it could be. It wasn't Girl Scout cookie time. Most of his colleagues were visiting family and Emma was away. Who else knew where he lived?

“I swear, if it's a bloody prank, I'm going to have a serious conversation with those damn Franklin boys,” he groused, swinging the door open.

The good news? It's wasn't the Franklin boys. The bad news? His brother Liam was standing on his doorstep, carry on bag in hand.

“Hello, Killian.”

Killian just stared. This couldn't be happening. Liam? Here?  _Now?_ Emma would be back soon and they weren't ready to spring the news on Liam. Killian was still reeling from knowing that  _Ingrid_ knew. 

“Are you gonna let me in? It's bloody cold out here!”

Still silent, Killian stepped back and allowed Liam inside. It wasn't until the door was solidly closed that he spoke. “What in the  _bloody hell_ are you doing here, Liam?”

“You invited me, don't you remember? 'Come visit anytime, brother,'” he said, taking off his coat. “So here I am.”

“But _why?_ Where's Molly? Is something wrong?” He was rattling off questions, trying to understand. Leaving Molly when she was pregnant didn't compute.

“She wanted to come but the doctors wouldn't let her. We thought perhaps persuading you in person was the way to go.”

Killian groaned. “For fuck's sake, Liam. I'm coming to the bloody Christmas thing, okay? I was going to call you but I've...”

“Been busy. That's your excuse for everything, little brother. But honestly, how busy can you be?”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

Liam looked around. “No offense, Killian. But you don't exactly have a high stress job.”

“How the fuck would you know? You've never understood me, Liam. And now, it seems you've come all this way for nothing. Not even a sodding phone call!” He turned around and stomped off to his kitchen; he needed a drink.

“Oi! Killian, wait!” Liam came after him, not looking the least bit sorry.

Killian got out a bottle of his best rum and poured himself a healthy glass. “Just say your piece, Liam. Berate me, whatever you came here for. Then I can go back to work.”

“I checked the calendar. It's a holiday.”

“Aye, but the final week of classes are coming up. I've got a staff meeting, shepherding my students through their final project, hanging the bloody show of their work. Still think I'm not busy?” He also had the woman he loved coming home soon and he didn't want Emma to meet Liam like this. He had planned on easing his brother into the idea, but the universe took a great deal of pleasure shitting on his well laid plan.

“Fair enough. But what about all those other times? You've been gone for more than three years, Killian. Isn't it time to end this little temper tantrum and come home?”

Killian gaped. “You think this is a  _temper tantrum?_ That I'm just some dumb kid who doesn't know what he wants? God, you really don't know me at all, do you?”

Liam snatched the bottle and drank from it. “I did. We used to be close. Then you went off to that school and then came running here! What the hell was I supposed to think?” he demanded.

“That I was trying to find my way on my own? Get out of your bloody shadow!”

“What are you talking about? You've always been the special one, Killian. You and your art, Mum always letting you get away with things when you brought her a picture. But I had to be responsible!”

“Is that what this is about?”

“It's about you running away from your family,” Liam snapped, taking another drink. “For no sodding reason. What could have happened to drive you three thousand miles away?”

Killian snatched back the bottle and poured himself another drink. Liam wanted to know? He wanted to talk? Fine. Killian didn't want to hurt him, but they clearly had things to work out. “What happened? I got my heart shattered, that's what.” He knocked back the rum. And he told the story. Again. Only this time he sounded a lot more pissed off than when he'd explained to Emma on their date. Liam had triggered all those painful memories again, especially the shame he felt in getting duped.

“You could have told me, Killian.”

“Could I? Liam the professional with the amazing wife and great career...who _warned_ me about art school...could you have put aside your smugness long enough to not lecture me until my ears bled? Be truthful now, brother.”

Liam had the humility to look chagrined. “Okay, maybe not. But running away isn't an answer either.”

“I had to get out of there,” Killian retorted. “Seeing... _her_...everywhere I went. But I've got a good thing here, Liam. A life.”

“But as a _teacher?_ Killian, you're intelligent, level headed...most of the time. You're capable of so much more.”

“I don't want to be like you. What you do is important, aye. But _art_ is my life. It always has been, whether that's here or London or bloody California.”

Liam sighed, exasperated. “If that's true then what's keeping you  _here?_ Surely you can teach in London.”

“I told you. I've got a life.”

“Is that so? Well, let's take a look at this life of yours, little brother.” Liam abruptly got up and started moving toward the living room, examining Killian's meager possessions. He'd told Emma that he didn't need much and that was true. As long as he had her, his art and a roof over his head, everything else was just... _stuff_. But Liam sneered at everything. Killian knew his brother was trying to provoke him, but he refused to rise to the bait. He was proud of all he'd accomplished since moving to America. Liam couldn't take that away.

“I bloody knew it,” Liam growled. He snatched a picture frame that Killian realized too late was the photo of he and Emma. “No girlfriend, huh? You two look very cozy.”

“You're the one always telling me to be happy, Liam.”

Liam shook the frame. “She's what? Eighteen? Twenty?” His eyes widened in horror. “Is she one of your  _students?_ ”

Killian's blood was simmering, perilously close to boiling. “Emma,” he bit out. “Is twenty three. She's a senior and  _not_ one of my students. We met because she's the model for my classes this semester.”

Liam turned away, running his fingers through his curly hair. “Bloody hell, that's  _worse_ , you idiot! What if you got caught? How do you know she's not using you? After what happened with the trollop, you didn't learn a bloody thing, did you? Un-fucking-believable!”

“We've been discreet. And in a week it won't matter anyway! And who I date is no concern of yours!” Killian shouted.

“Did you even hear yourself right now? You fly across the ocean to escape a broken heart. You take up a post in a tiny college town in the ruddy mountains in the middle of fucking nowhere. You risk _that_ for some college hussy because you can't keep it in your pants? Not to mention all the lying. Who _are_ you, Killian?”

“Who the hell are _you_ , asshole?” Killian turned, eyes widening in shock. It was Emma. The brothers were both so wrapped up in screaming at each other than neither heard the door open.

“Emma, love, what are you...?”

She held up a finger. “You and I will have a talk later, Killian,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. She was plainly furious. Killian was too—he was going to punch Liam's lights out the moment he could move again—but he was also elated and scared out of his wits. He noticed she was dressed up under her thick coat. She'd come home early...probably to surprise him. And here he was rowing with his brother. Emma stalked into the room, standing taller in her red heels. She walked right up to Liam, hands on her hips. “You've got about three seconds to answer me before I punch you in the face.”

Liam—to Killian's great amusement—looked cowed. “Liam, Killian's older brother.”

“He's told me about you. Failed to mention the raging superiority complex though. I'll let you two finish your little talk, but let's make one thing clear, buddy. You _ever_ call me anything other than my name again and you won't be having anymore children. Got it?”

Liam nodded, gulping audibly. Killian was so damn proud of her he could burst. “Lass...”

She whirled on him. “I can't talk to you right now,” her voice still carrying that razor sharp edge. “I can't even look at you. Just...I need some time.”

“But...”

Her eyes turned pleading, glassy with unshed tears. Clearly, Liam's accusation hit harder than he suspected. And she'd gotten ambushed because...oh god, he hadn't even  _thought_ to call and warn her. He was the most unbelievable arse. Meekly, he nodded. He swallowed, a lump in his throat. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, make both of their pain go away, but she asked for time. He would give it to her. Emma nodded gratefully and strode out the way she had come.

The moment the door closed, Killian punched his brother full in the face.


	18. Chapter 18

“What the fuck?” Liam cried, doubled over, holding his nose.

Killian's hand was throbbing—he hadn't even attempted to throw a punch since high school—but he stood his ground. “Don't you bloody dare!” he shouted. “Don't you dare try to act like this is my fault. You show up here unannounced and insult everything I've worked for, the woman I love. So don't you dare wonder why the hell there's blood dripping out of your nose, Liam Jones.”

Liam raised his stinging blue eyes to his brother, wincing as he continued to hold his nose. Was it broken? Killian didn't care very much. Served his ponce of a brother right. He didn't know what triggered all this but he was going to find out. Then he was going to do what he could to patch things up with Emma. He promised her time, but they _needed_ to talk. He couldn't even imagine how she must be feeling right now. He'd go wait on her doorstep until she was ready to talk to him, if that's what it took.

“Killian...”

“No. Don't you try to apologize. Not until you mean it. What the bloody hell are you _thinking?_ The Liam I know would never willfully hurt someone's feelings.”

“I didn't know she was there.”

“Would that have stopped you? For months you've been not so subtly trying to get me to return to London. Why? Why can't you just let me be happy? And I am happy with Emma, make no mistake about that. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You really want to stay here alone? Away from your family?” Liam's voice sounded like he had a cold; he was sniffing, trying to catch the blood.

Killian ducked into the kitchen and got him a towel. “I reserve the right to punch you again,” he warned. “So stop being an arse.”

“Are you gonna answer me?”

“Haven't you been listening? I'm not alone. Maybe I was. I came here alone to get over a broken heart. A place where no one knew me, where there were no expectations.” He sat on the stool; it was the one Emma usually chose and his heart twisted. He couldn't get the devastated look she had out of his head. Had something Liam said hit too close to home? There were still so much of her past he didn't know; Liam could easily have triggered something while he was hellbent on being a first class prat. He looked at Liam. “I didn't intend for this to happen. I didn't mean to fall for her. But she means so much to me now. Do you hear me? And that hussy,” he spat that like a curse, lips curling in disgust, “is a criminal justice major who's applying to law school. She's bright and driven and kind and compassionate, all that aside from being sexy as hell, and I'm fairly certain you've made her hate you, so bully for you.”

Liam pulled the towel away long enough for him to collapse in one of the armchairs. “Bloody hell.”

“You don't say. Sodding prat.”

Liam was silent for a long time, trying to staunch the blood coming from his nose. Killian's hand throbbed in time with each painful beat of his heart. All he wanted was to drive to Emma's apartment and beg for forgiveness, but he needed to understand why his brother did this. There had to be a root to all this. Liam was never willfully mean.

“Why?” Killian demanded at last. “Why are you so hellbent on ruining my life?”

“I don't want to ruin your life,” Liam said quietly. He pulled the towel away, holding his head in his hands. Killian remained stoically impassive, determined to get answers. No way in hell was he letting his brother off the hook for this. His tirade hurt Emma deeply, of that he was certain. And hurt him. He'd never sought Liam's approval, but faced with this...he realized he wanted it. He wanted them to regain some of what they'd lost. Their mother would be ashamed of the pair of them.

“Then what? Because I'm buggered if I understand.” He ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “You've got Molly, a baby on the way. A successful career. Things I've always wanted. Now that my life's starting to really come together, you show up and try to tear it down. Why, brother?”

“Because I'm jealous!” Liam roared, yanking on his curly hair. “I'm jealous of you, little brother. Happy now?”

Killian's brow crinkled. “Jealous, but how? That doesn't even make sense.”

Liam finally turned and looked. He looked about five years older than his thirty six years. “Remember when we were kids?”

“How could I forget? You were constantly dragging me off to play football or some other nonsense.” That wasn't to say his childhood had been miserable. Far from it. He loved his brother. But he was never going to be the adventurer that Liam was. He was content with that.

Liam laughed dryly. “Mum insisted you get out of your room occasionally. I was just the messenger.” He paused, sighing heavily. “I....I dreamed about football, the way you dreamed about art,” he admitted. “I wanted to play for United not just watch them on the telly. But then Mum got sick and...”

“Don't you dare blame this on her.”

“I'm not. I fucked up. You've made that abundantly clear.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Anyway, she got sick and I was the only one left to look after both of you. I had to figure out how to keep a roof over our heads, food in our bellies. I had to _grow up._ And I wasn't ready.”

Killian sympathized, he truly did. But hadn't life moved on? Their mother was gone, god rest her, but they had both gotten on with their lives. Liam was about to start a family, for goodness sake. “So what? You resent that I got to go to art school? Because from where I'm sitting that feels pretty damn shitty.”

Liam sighed again. “I know that, Killian. I'm not saying it's rational, or even forgivable. But I think...that's why I tried so bloody hard to talk you out of it. Because deep down I didn't want you to live your dream while I had to give up mine.”

“But you have Molly. You're gonna be a _dad_. Aren't those things important too?”

“They are but...bloody hell, Killian, I'm fucking _terrified._ Haven't you been listening? I'm pretty much the worst human being in the world right now. I feel like it. Like I'm a complete fraud. My own brother wants nothing to do with me.”

“Now wait a second. I never said that, Liam. I came here for _me_ to get my head on straight. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Funny, doesn't feel like it on this end.”

“You think I abandoned you?”

“Something like that.”

It was Killian's turn to sigh heavily. “It wasn't my intention. I just needed some space to figure things out. But I guess the longer I stayed...the harder it was to go back, even to visit. I didn't mean to hurt you, Liam.”

Liam nodded. Perhaps they were finally getting somewhere. They'd had tiny echoes of this through the years since Killian started art school, but the gulf just got wider and wider, with no end in sight. Sometimes if felt like they were little more than casual acquaintances. Killian wanted a relationship with his brother. He wanted to know his niece or nephew. But he wanted it with Emma at his side, as his own person. “You're serious about her...Emma?”

Killian nodded. “Very. I really think she's the one. The way you feel about Molly? That's how I feel about Emma. I want...” This wouldn't be easy for Liam to hear. “I want to go with her. Wherever she gets into law school. Hell, I'd start our life together right now if she'd have me.”

Liam whistled low. “Wow. Guess I've really bollixed this up, huh?”

“A bit. Ponce.”

“Git.”

“Sod.”

Liam held up his hands. “Alright, alright, I give up. Killian, I'm so, so sorry for all of this. I thought I had a handle on it but I was wrong. Like off the map wrong.” He groaned. “Molly is going to kill me.”

“Not unless Emma gets you first.”

“I can't imagine she'd want to have anything to do with me, as you so aptly pointed out.”

“She's had a rough life, Liam. She was a foster kid until she was fourteen. But even then she's been a bit of a loner. Then some wanker she thought loved her nearly got her expelled her freshman year. I think you might have pushed some buttons without meaning to.”

“Fuck,” Liam swore. “I really am the world's _biggest_ arse. If she kills me, make sure you put that on my tombstone.”

“I will, make no mistake.” His hand still hurt but it was like a dull ache now. “I'm gonna go try and talk to her. Explain for your sorry arse. But then...if she wishes it...you best be prepared to grovel, brother.”

“Molly will tell you; I've had plenty of practice. Go. I'll start preparing my death speech.”

“Now who's being dramatic?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Go make things right with your girlfriend. I'll be fine.”

Killian nodded. He hopped off the stool and headed for the door, slipping on his shoes and a coat before grabbing his keys. He only prayed Emma would want to speak to him when he got there.

* * *

Emma threw the Bug into reverse and tore out of Killian's driveway. Her earlier unshed tears still stung her eyes. But she wouldn't cry. She didn't want to give Liam the satisfaction of knowing he got to her. She was furious, righteous indignation running through her veins; she had to hang on to that.

She'd come in to see Liam—she recognized him from the photo—brandishing the picture of she and Killian, raging at the top of his voice. At first, she was merely surprised; Killian hadn't said anything about his brother visiting. Hadn't mentioned Liam at all really. How long had he been there? Why was he there? As the shock wore off, she finally registered what he was saying, the foul name he had called her.

And suddenly, she wasn't in Killian's house. She was back in the group home, with the social worker answering question after question, trying to make them believe her. That she hadn't encouraged the sicko who'd tried to grope her. That she'd kneed him in the balls and decked him in the face in self defense. The man raged in the room next door, in another interview, calling her all sorts of things, that word being among them. The walls were thin so they could hear everything. Emma had only been thirteen, hardly begun adolescence.

But she was just a kid, a kid with no parents, no home, who had a history of running away. No one believed her. So she ran away again. She was caught within weeks and sent to another foster home. Which turned out to be Ingrid's. Initially, she was there with about four other kids, but she and Ingrid bonded. By her fourteenth birthday, Ingrid had taken the steps to adopt her. It was the happiest day of her life.

When she heard Liam use that same word...it was almost like she was thirteen for a moment. But then she remembered she was a grown woman and she didn't have to put up with that any longer. It felt so good to march up to him and give him a piece of her mind. She vaguely remembered Killian defending her, but so much of it was a blur, she couldn't be sure. After she went off, she couldn't stay. She needed some space to get a grip on herself; she didn't want Killian to see her as weak or damaged. And she was a little bit mad he hadn't warned her, even if that was irrational. Her head was a jumble of conflicting emotions and she needed to clear it. She needed to get that word out of her head.

She needed Killian to hold her.

But she drove on, the occasional tear sliding down her cheek. She didn't try to stop them.

Emma parked the Bug in the apartment building's lot and marched up to her place. Elsa was still visiting her family, thank goodness. She didn't think she could explain why there was mascara running down her cheeks. How could one insult still bother her? It was ten years ago. She could only imagine what Killian thought of her screaming at his brother like that. Did he hate her now? No, that was insane. If there was one thing she was certain of in this whole mess it was that Killian loved her. He'd wanted her to stay, she could see it in his eyes. But she'd run. Again. Was that all she was good for? Running when things got hard?

Emma shrugged out of her coat angrily, unsure who she was angry at. Liam? Definitely. Killian? Not really, which made her feel like the world's biggest jerk. Herself? Only for running. She didn't regret a single thing she'd said to Liam Jones. He didn't know her. He had no right to say what he said. Bastard.

Emma stomped to her room and tossed the sky high heels into her closet. Her carefully laid plan to seduce her hottie boyfriend was totally shot. She wanted to call him, to apologize for running, but she'd told him she needed space. But she was wrong. She just wanted him.

She flopped down on her bed and dialed...Ingrid. God, she was such a coward. “Mom?”

“Emma? Honey, what's wrong?” Ingrid said instantly.

“I think I screwed up. Big time.”

There was the sound of a door opening and closing and the ambient noise went to zero. “Tell me what happened.”

Briefly (and without icky words) Emma explained. Ingrid let her talk herself quiet, knowing her well enough not to interrupt. When Emma was finished, Ingrid hummed sympathetically. “Honey, I know it seems bad, but I promise you it's not. Is this your first fight?”

“We had a misunderstanding a couple of weeks ago,” she replied honestly. “I ran then too.”

“You're not going to do everything right off the bat, Emma. A relationship is a work in progress. You'll both make mistakes, sometimes misunderstand. It's okay. What's important is that you talk about it and work through it. You know what you should do?”

“Call and ask him to come over?”

“Exactly.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime, honey. Good luck.” Emma was about to flip over to Killian's number when she heard a knock on the front door.

“Emma? Emma, it's Killian, love. I know I promised you space, but I really think we should talk. Please?” His voice was muffled through the door but it was undoubtedly him. A wave of relief washed through her and she hurried to the door, throwing it open. Killian's face fell. “Oh Emma. I am so sorry.”

“Sorry? But...”

“I didn't know,” he plowed on. “I swear I had no idea he was coming. He just showed up on my doorstep about a half hour before you did. I know I should have called, but I didn't _think_ and I was trying to get him say his piece and leave and I am just so sorry...” Emma cut off the rest of his quite unnecessary apology by flinging herself into his arms and kissing him hard. Killian let out a tiny oomph of surprise but held her close, opening when she demanded entrance to his mouth. She plundered his mouth; it felt like coming up for air after hours underwater. Even after running, he still wanted her.

They broke the kiss with a gasp, neither moving. “Lass, what...?”

“ _I'm_ sorry, Killian. I ran again and it sucks and I'm sorry.”

“Love, you've been crying. Clearly I'm the one at fault here.”

She shook her head. “No. It's hard to...explain.” She would explain, but the middle of her hallway wasn't exactly the time or place. “Come in?” He took her hand and allowed her to lead him inside. It occurred to her he'd never been in her apartment before. “How'd you know which one it was?” she asked, taking his coat.

“It's in your file,” he replied, a bit sheepish.

“You memorized my file?”

“Not on purpose! But after we started seeing each other...I thought it would be a good idea to know...just in case.”

“Okay.” She took his hand again and guided him to the couch. “Sorry it's a bit of a mess. We didn't really clean before the holiday.”

“Love, all I care about is you.”

They sat, Emma wiping at her cheeks. She didn't think it did much good. “Are you okay?”

“Not really? I was so afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me.”

“I shouldn't have said those things. To you, not your brother. I was just...upset.”

Killian gave her a wry grin. “I was so proud of you, Emma.”

“You were?”

“He was out of line. Completely. He deserved what he got and then some.” To her surprise, Killian winced and Emma finally got a good look at his hands. The right one was red and a little swollen.

“Oh my god, you _hit_ him?”

“The moment you left,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Hurts more than I remember.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Wait here.” She got up and padded to the kitchen. She wet a towel and cleaned her face; at least she didn't have black streaks everywhere. The she got a plastic bag and another towel. She filled the bag up with ice and brought it to him. “Put this on it.”

Killian accepted the ice. “Thanks.” When Emma sat, she stayed a little apart, knowing they needed to talk. “Emma?”

She put her hands in her lap. Now that he was here, she was actually a bit embarrassed at the way she treated him. “I'm sorry,” she said again.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I ran. I got my feelings hurt and took it out on you. That's not right.”

“So Liam did hurt you. I wondered, love. It must have been a deep hurt.”

She sighed. “I hadn't even thought about it years. But then I heard him staying those things and calling me...that and it was like I was thirteen all of a sudden. I didn't want you to see, so I pretended to be mad.”

“I still should have called, or texted. Or something. He just...made me so angry. Even before you arrived and interrupted. He said some terrible things, things I hadn't even dreamt my brother could say.”

“Guess this family thing isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?”

Killian chuckled. “Something like that.” He looked at her. “If you want to talk about it...what he said that upset you...I'll listen.”

“Later, I promise.” If they were going to make this work, then she was going to have to let him in, confide some of the bad parts of her past. “Could you just hold me for a while?”

Killian opened his arms for her; she snuggled into his side. He rearranged his bag of ice while kissing the top of her head. “I missed you so much, my love.”

Emma rubbed her cheek against his chest, almost purring as she inhaled his musky scent. “I did too. But I'm glad I went home, even for a couple of days.”

“It sounds like you had a good time.”

“Yeah. Even though Ingrid scared the shit out of me with that 'I know you have a boyfriend' thing.”

Killian laughed. “Seems our families had rather opposing reactions to our relationship.”

“If you mean violently opposed, then yeah.” She plucked at some lint on his shirt. “Did you and Liam...talk?”

He sighed. “Aye. Not all of it was...pleasant. Both of us have been harboring some resentments and hurt feelings for some time. I can't tell you how sorry I am you got caught in the crossfire. I swear I never meant for you to meet him this way.” He bent down to kiss her hair. “I had intended to ease him into it, over the phone, before we got to London. But Liam had other plans.”

“Do you want to...talk about it?”

“Later? But I will say—and I know it doesn't excuse his utterly boorish behavior—but as soon as I told him about you, the real you, the woman I fell in love with, he felt like complete wanker. And _if_ you wish to hear his apology, then he is prepared to give it.”

“If?”

“I'll not force his company on you, Emma. He was awful to you and I won't stand for it. Even if he is my brother.”

“But he's your only family.”

“ _You're_ my family too and no offense to Liam, but my only concern is your happiness.”

Emma moved to crawl into his lap, curling herself against his chest. She kissed his skin where his shirt was open. “Just give me some time. I'd like to give him another chance.” She just needed to spend some quality time with Killian first.

“That's very kind of you.”

“I don't want you to alienate your family because of me.”

“My issues with Liam go far beyond you, lass. They've been brewing for years. Don't for one second believe this was your fault.”

“How's your hand?”

“Numb?” He chuckled. “I do believe the swelling's gone down. Thank you.”

Emma stayed there, ear pressed against his shirt, listening to his heartbeat. It was a calming, soothing sound, the steady thump, thump, thump. “Will you stay tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

Elsa wasn't home and wouldn't be until late Sunday. When else would they get a chance to stay in  _her_ space? “My bed's not quite as big as yours but I think there's room. So yes, I want you to.” She sat up, her skirt riding up as she moved to straddle his lap.

“Emma?”

“Shhh.” Her smile flickered then she cupped his scruffy cheeks and brought his mouth to hers. The kiss was sweet, slow and exceedingly gentle. Killian tossed the melting bag of ice and curled his arms loosely around her waist, following her lead. She brushed kisses all over his face, reacquainting herself with every dip and curve of his handsome features. When their lips met again, there was more passion, just a hint of a spark under her skin. She combed her fingers through his thick dark hair, instinctively trying to get closer.

Killian skimmed his hands up her back, fingers tangling in loose blonde locks. He was content with slow; after everything that happened they deserved a moment to just savor their connection, both emotional and physical. He sucked lightly on her bottom lip, drawing it between his teeth, lips quirking up as she moaned softly. “Were you planning on surprising me?” he said quietly. “Is that why you arrived early?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I am always happy to see you, Emma. But perhaps I could have my surprise now?”

She smiled back. “I think that's acceptable.”

He kissed her again, deeply, crushing her against him. She fit perfectly, her softness pliant against the hard planes of his chest. Her fingers pressed against his scalp, tugging more forcefully on his hair. Her hint of aggression sent a bolt of lust down his spine, straight to his groin. “Bloody hell, I missed you.”

Emma nodded, rubbing her cheek on his stubble, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Me too.” She groaned as his hands wandered her clothed form, stealing under her skirt and resting on her ass. “I want...I promise we'll talk later but...take me to bed? Please?”

“Gladly.” Without further prompting, he picked her up, her long legs winding around his waist. She giggled happily as he carried her down the hall, a little unsure which room was hers. “A little help, love?”

“It's this one,” she murmured, nodding at the door on his left. She bent her head, happily nibbling on his neck as he pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside.

“Bloody minx,” he muttered. He gave her ass a little swat, which made her yelp and grind against him. He chuckled darkly, filing that information away for another time. He closed the door behind them, quickly taking in the minimum details of the room. The bed was to his left, tall, perhaps just a full size? She had a dresser and a desk and the door to the closet. Not much for his lass. He moved to sit her on the tall bed. “I'm sorry I didn't get to appreciate this dress before. I like it.” It was red of course. Short, flirty with a flared skirt. He was sure in the heels she would have been a sexy siren, but he liked this better. It was slightly rumpled now, her makeup was gone, her lovely golden hair mussed. To him, she was a vision.

Emma dragged her hands over his clothed chest. “I had this whole plan, you know,” she said, picking at the buttons of his shirt. “About seducing you.”

“Oh, do tell.”

She shook her head. “Doesn't matter.” As the buttons came free, she pressed her lips to his skin, rebranding him as hers. She peeled the cotton off his shoulders, molding her hands to his torso. “You are gorgeous,” she whispered, tugging him deeper between her legs. She touched him with care, remapping the contours of his muscles, tongue sometimes darting out to lick. She circled his nipples with her warm tongue, scraping her teeth across the hard peaks. Killian cursed, body shivering with pleasure.

Emma guided his hands to the hem of her dress, helping him tug it off. She shucked his pants, urging him to join her in the bed. She'd imagined them making love in her bed but she hadn't expected it to be possible. Today it was.

Killian growled low, climbing up, covering her with his body. They kissed, slow and languid, hands wandering and stoking whatever bare skin they could reach. His erection dug into her thigh; instinctively Emma spread her legs to accommodate him. They both groaned as he settled into place, hard ridge sliding over aching flesh, despite being muted by clothing. Killian rolled his hips, giving them just a hint of the friction they craved while still wanting to take things slowly. Emma mewled, wrapping her legs around him, urging him on.

“Need you so much,” she whispered, kissing along his collar. She sucked greedily on the salty skin of his collarbone, her back arching under him. “Jesus.”

Killian ran his hand down her thigh and up along her side. “Patience, darling.” So many times when they didn't see each other for days they tore at each other's clothes, coming together quickly, blazing white hot. This need was just as acute but building slower, filled with reverent touches and lasting pleasure. He lowered his head, licking and sucking at her breast. He teased her nipples through he fabric and she groaned.

“More...please.” she whimpered, reaching above her head and arching her beck. She had a bit more leverage, wantonly grinding her heat against him. Her clit throbbed, already close to her peak. Killian bit his lip, pushing his hips harder, rougher. Emma moaned in response, nodded hard. “Yes!”

“You want me to make you come like this, love?” he whispered in her ear.

“Please!”

“There's my greedy girl.” He braced himself above her, rocking his hips into her like he was fucking her, his cock rubbing her clit. She was trembling beneath him, craving release, craving more, more, more. Killian kissed her hard, muffling her cry as she fell apart under him. Emma clung to him, breathless, pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“How have we not done that before?” she asked, laughing breathlessly.

“We're usually too impatient,” Killian shot back, lips brushing her rapid pulse. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, his own need still resting against her warmth.

“Hmm.” Emma cupped his cheeks and brought his lips back to hers for another deep languid kiss. “Hold on.” She used the leverage of her legs around his waist to flip them over, rising up on her knees. “I wasn't done with you, Professor Jones.”

“I am happily at your service, Miss Swan,” he countered, tongue poking inside his cheek.

Emma giggled, feeling the unease and hurt from earlier melting away. No matter what happened, they belonged together. Feelings would be bruised; they would fight. But this was worth fighting for. She reached behind to unsnap her bra, tossing it over her shoulder. She bit her lip as she fondled her breasts, letting Killian get an eye full. He growled low in his throat, hands resting on her thighs. She rolled and pinched, heat building in her core as Killian's face darkened dangerously.

“Fuck, Emma,” he muttered, thrusting his hips up in frustration.

“Did you want something?” She planted her hands on his chest, leaning down slowly until her nipples hovered over his mouth. He didn't even wait for her to speak; Killian promptly started suckling greedily on one while teasing the other with his fingers. Emma gripped the headboard, letting him do as he wished. She whimpered and moaned, hissing as he bit down on the sensitive flesh. “God yes.”

Killian's hands skimmed back down her back, slipping past the waistband to her panties and squeezing her ass hard. She was making him crazy, her lithe body calling out to him. “Need you,” he whispered, nipping at her skin. “Fuck.”

“Patience,” she parroted back, using his words against him. She smirked and crawled down his body, palming him through the very tented fabric of his boxers. Killian hissed, arching into her touch. She laughed, fingers dipping into the waistband and tugging them down. He raised his hips to help her, nude once she tossed them to the floor. Slowly, she started to stroke him, giving him a small bit of relief.

“Oh god.”

Emma smiled, tucking her legs under her so she could bend down. She swept her hair over her shoulder and started kissing his stomach, right along the trail that led to his cock. She nipped and sucked along the V of his hips, once again paying special attention to his tattoo. Killian let her explore, sighing at her sweet ministrations. It was the perfect kind of torment, watching her touch him, her nimble fingers driving him mad with want.

“Love, _please_ ,” he panted, hips jerking as she fondled his balls. “Shit.”

“Scoot down.” she said, releasing him for a minute. He did as she bid, cursing softly when she shimmied off her panties and traddled his face. She smirked wickedly at him, bending to kiss the tip of his cock. Killian licked his lips, all too eager to taste her sweetness. He licked a long stripe through her folds, she mewled appreciatively. “Make me come.”

It was hard for him to focus as Emma took his cock into her mouth at nearly the same instant, but he worked her with his tongue, doing all the things he imagined during their phone conversation mere days ago. Emma licked and laved, swirling her tongue, breathing deeply through her nose as he ate her, tongue plunging inside her hole repeatedly. One hand tightened in the sheets, the pressure building again. She released him with a pop, hips wantonly riding his face. Killian soaked in every whine, every cry that fell from her lips as he circled her clit with his thumb and lapped at her entrance.

Emma's body tensed, lips parted in a low cry. “Yes! Oh fuck...I'm gonna come...fuck yes!” she yelled, hands braced on his chest. She threw her head back and gave into it, pleasure flooding her. Killian took everything she had, lapping at her greedily. “Ohhhh. Ohhh god.”

She quivered with aftershocks, still aching. With effort she rolled onto her side, smiling weakly as Killian rose up and kissed his way slowly up her body. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, lips brushing her stuttering heart.

“Hmm, so are you,” she said, cupping his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, Emma. More than you know.” He was still afraid of scaring her with the depths of his devotion; she was still young, had so much life to live. He just prayed she wanted that life to include him. He covered her lips with his, another slow loving kiss.

Emma's hands fumbled between them, finally skimming over his thick cock. Killian hissed. “Love...”

“I want you in me,” she said, kissing him. “Now.”

He was helpless to resist the earnest look of love in her eyes. He kissed her briefly, then hopped down, dragging her to the edge of the bed. She let him roll her onto her side, wondering what he was going to do. Killian raised her left leg, kissing the arch of her foot before slipping it over his shoulder. “Eyes on me, Emma,” he demanded softly. She locked gazes with him as he pushed forward, cock penetrating her painfully slowly, stretching her.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she whimpered, scrambling for his hands. He laced their fingers together, leaning forward, gently rocking into her. She was tight like this, hot and wet, gripping him. He kissed their joined hands hips rolling slowly, savoring every moment. It was surprisingly emotional, their love laid bare in each other's eyes. Killian bent down further, kissing her; the angle shifted and she moaned. “Don't stop.”

“Look at us, darling,” he said, glancing down to where they were joined. “Fuck, you feel so bloody incredible.”

Emma looked, her core clenching involuntarily as she took in the sight of him moving in and out of her, his cock glistening with her arousal. It was intensely erotic; more wetness pooled, making her slicker, hotter. “Oh god.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Harder.”

Killian heeded her demand, hips snapping more forcefully into hers. Emma cried out in approval, fingers slipping down to flick her nub. Her core clenched again and Killian swore. He was getting close, all the teasing sapping his control. “Come with me, Emma. One more for me, love.” He crushed her lips with his, her leg against her chest as he took her with rougher and deeper strokes, Emma furiously rubbing her clit. The explosion, when it came, was all consuming, their mutual cries of pleasure echoing in their ears. He rode her until they were spent, skin tingling and panting for air. Killian sagged for a moment, but moved quickly, knowing he must be crushing her. Emma whimpered at the loss but let him lay her out on the bed.

Killian brushed a kiss to her sweaty forehead before going to find the bathroom. It was down the hall and to the right. He flipped on the light and found a washcloth, wetting it and returning to Emma. She was half asleep when he returned, humming softly as he took care of her. “Hamper, love?”

“Hm, closet.” She rolled on her side. “Coming?”

“One minute.” He opened her closet and found the dirty laundry, tossing the used washcloth on top. Then he shut the door and returned to the high bed. “It's going to be chilly, lass. Let me turn down the blanket?”

“Okay.” She rolled so he could pull down the comforter, immediately huddling underneath it. She didn't think she'd ever slept in her bed naked before. She'd done it in his many times. Killian joined her, wrapping an arm around her and tucking her against his side.

“How do you feel?”

“I'm good. You're warm.”

Killian chuckled. He liked that she was fond of cuddling. He was too. “I have no reason to be cold. I've got my lovely lass in my arms.”

Emma laid her head on his shoulder. “I'm glad you came after me.”

“I hated not knowing how you were. You were so angry—rightly so. But there was more to it, yes?”

“Yeah. Bad memories. Stuff I hadn't thought about in a long time. I heard Liam saying those awful things...and I was right back there.”

“Back where, love?”

She took a deep breath. She owed him the truth. “Remember I was in the system? Before Ingrid adopted me?”

“Aye.”

“When I was thirteen...there was this home I got placed in.” She recited the story, the skeevy would be dad, the icky flirting, the near groping. How she defended herself. How the man had the audacity to report _her_ to child services and how no one believed her when she told the truth.

Killian tightened his hold on her, furious at how she'd been treated by people who were supposed to protect her. “But that...thing,” he couldn't call him a man because that was too good for him, “didn't touch you?”

“I didn't give him the chance. I'd picked up enough by then that I could knee him where it counts and punch his ugly face.”

“I'm so sorry you went through that, Emma.”

“I found Ingrid not long after. Things got better after that. But I think...I think it might have been part of the reason I didn't date in high school. It just felt wrong.”

“And now?”

“Now I've got a great guy that I love,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “Even early I think I knew you wanted _me_ and not just to get into my pants.”

Killian stroked her cheek. “You intrigued me from the moment we met, sweetheart. You're so full of life, despite what you've been through.”

She blushed. “You _do_ make me happy, Killian. Even if I get mad at you, don't forget that.”

“I won't.”

“Your hand's a bit swollen again.”

“I'll live. But that's why you left, isn't it? Liam impugned your honesty and integrity, sight unseen.”

She laid her back on his chest. “It hurt so much, thinking he hated me. I don't want you to lose your family.”

“That's up to Liam. Because I'm not giving you up, Emma. Not unless you order me away.”

“I'm sorry you thought I was mad at you. I was mad at him. And myself for letting that bother me all these years later.”

“Lass, from what you've said, you had a hellish childhood. You don't have to hide that or pretend it doesn't still hurt. You're so strong, Emma, but I'm here if you want to tell me anything. I want us to be able to confide in each other.”

“I do too. I want to tell you things...it's just hard. I've spent so long repressing it.”

“There's no rush. I'm not going anywhere.”

“So while we're in share mode, what happened with Liam?”

Killian sighed, combing his fingers through her hair. It soothed him. “Things I never imagined. Would you believe he's jealous of me?”

“How come?”

“Remember how he used to play football? He had to give it up when Mum got sick. He had to step up and look after me and her, going to school to find a career to support us. He says he's jealous that I got to live my dream but he had to give up his.”

“But he's got so much now,” Emma mused. “Is that really more important than his family?”

“He also believes I've abandoned him.”

He said it in such a defeated voice; her heart broke for him. “Killian, no. Whatever Liam's feeling, it's not your fault. You can't be his crutch.”

“As I said, issues that have festered for years. I had no idea he felt that way. I thought he wanted me to come home because he liked bossing me around. Takes his older brother duties quite seriously, as you saw.”

“But you talked?”

“Some.” He sighed. “I don't really know what to do. Feels like I'm being pulled in two different directions.”

That was exactly what she didn't want. “I'm sorry.”

He immediately understood her tone. “Emma, _no._ Don't apologize. I told Liam: you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Ever. I'm better with you in my life. You inspire me, you love me and I love you. I will _not_ leave you, I swear it.”

“But Killian...”

“Do you love me, Emma?”

“Yes!”

“Then please don't fret. We'll work something out. Once the baby's born they'll be able to visit. Or we can visit them. That is, of course, if you want to speak to them. I think Molly will adore you.” He chuckled and kissed the crown on her head. “She's wonderful, far better than Liam deserves, which he knows. Both Jones boys fell for feisty headstrong women. Typical.”

“I hope so.” She wanted to give Liam another chance; it had been a terrible first impression for both of them. But Emma was glad she stood up for herself. She wanted Killian's family to respect her. “You know my mom gets first dibs on visiting, right?”

“I believe that's fair. Perhaps we can call her in the morning?” He looked forward to meeting Ingrid in person again, but he didn't think putting in a bit of extra effort could hurt. He knew how important her mother's approval was to Emma.

Emma smiled. “I'd like that. She'll like you, I know it.” She yawned, the emotions of the day taking a toll.

“Tired?”

“A little.”

“Sleep, lass. I've got you.”

Emma leaned up and kissed him before settling in to sleep. Killian watched her carefully until her breathing evened out; only then would he allow himself to sleep. They had a lot to deal with but he was confident they could handle it. Together.


	19. Chapter 19

Emma woke up to a furnace pressed against her back. She was disoriented for only a second before remembering Killian was there. In _her_ bed. And, she realized a moment later, likely freezing because she'd hogged the covers again. Emma quickly rolled over and fluffed out the comforter to cover his nude body. It was so strange to be naked in _her_ bed, but she had to admit she liked the feel of his bare skin. He was a bit chilly to the touch and she winced, knowing it was her fault. She snuggled up against him, happily sharing her body heat under the warm blanket.

Killian stirred a little, his hand sliding over her hip, unconsciously pulling her closer. He mumbled something she didn't catch and she smiled softly. He was so adorable in sleep. Dark hair mussed, bangs falling into his eyes. The night's growth of scruff scratched her nose as she laid her head next to his on the pillow. She could feel the steady breaths on her face as she gently brushed his skin with the pads of her fingers. She sighed, content just to watch him.

She thought about all that had happened the day before, the hurt feelings, the confessions, the understanding. She may not have had very many relationships, but she knew this one was different. She didn't want to hide from him. She wanted to open herself up to this man, because she trusted him. She trusted his feelings for her, trusted him not to break her. It was a huge admission for someone like her. And it still frightened her a little bit. How could she have found this, almost completely by chance? And to have fallen so quickly and so completely...she was occasionally overwhelmed by him. But she liked it.

She liked knowing that if she stumbled he would catch her. She hadn't had that in such a long time.

“Thank you, Killian.” she whispered softly, kissing the tip of his nose. She closed her eyes, listening to him breathe.

Killian's awareness twinged, a very familiar scent rousing him. The vanilla scent of Emma filled his nostrils and he sighed happily. He shifted in the bed, realizing she was not only pressed intimately against him, but that they were both covered with the warm comforter, tucked into their own private cocoon. He tightened his grip on her hip, groggily nuzzling her hair. This was by far his favorite way to wake up.

“Killian?”

“Morning, love.” His accent was gruffer, voice rough with sleep. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“I didn't mean to wake you.”

“What kind of fool would I be to complain about a gorgeous naked woman in my arms?”

Emma chuckled. “A pretty big one actually.”

“Exactly.” He kissed her hair. “I do love waking up with you, lass.”

“I woke up and realized I'd stolen the covers again. Sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

“Does it make me the worst bedmate ever?”

“Not in the slightest.” He tipped her chin to look at him. “Your past is not your fault. At home, I've usually got an extra blanket, so it's no trouble.”

Emma hugged him closer. “I've never had a guy in my bed before,” she admitted.

He smiled brightly down at her. “Then I am honored to be accorded that privilege regardless of the blankets.”

“Ugh, who talks like that,” she mock complained.

“Judging by your pink cheeks, I think you're rather fond of the way I talk.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

He laughed lightly before bringing his lips to hers. Emma sighed into it, her fingers combing through his hair. She tugged him closer, feeling him press her into the mattress. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip and he opened for her, groaning as she slipped it past his lips. Killian rolled her onto her back, his hands tracing her supple curves. Emma shivered, her body reacting to the exploratory touch.

“I take it back,” he mumbled, lips kissing along her jaw.

“What?” She bit her lip as he gently squeezed her breast.

“I was just thinking that my favorite way to wake up with you in my arms. I take it back.”

Desire was already pooling low in her belly as he kissed across her collar. “So what is it now?”

“Waking up and making love to you,” he whispered, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, arching into him. She held him to her with one hand, ripping the blanket off with the other. The air was a bit chilly but it felt like she was burning up. He switched breasts and she keened, eager for more.

“Roll over, sweetheart,” Killian whispered. He'd missed her so much; he just wanted to lavish her with attention. Emma did so, hugging the pillow under her head. Killian grinned and brushed her hair off her back, exposing the delicate skin. He started at the base of her spine, kissing his way up, hands massaging the muscles. Emma moaned softly, relaxing moment by moment.

“God, that feels good,” she muttered.

Killian leaned on his side, hand gliding over the curve of her spine and settling on her ass. “You are exquisite,” he said quietly, finding her green eyes. “Perfect.”

Emma raked her eyes down his body hungrily, lingering a bit too long on his prominent erection. “You're gorgeous too, you know.” She moved closer, kissing his chest. Killian kept a hold on her hip as she leaned up and kissed him passionately, hoping to convey how much she needed him. Killian moaned into her mouth, not protesting in the slightest as she eased him into his back and climbed on top of him. He could feel the heat of her hovering near where he needed her most, arms around her as they kissed.

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he panted, squeezing the globes of her ass.

“Shower,” she hissed, finally grinding her aching flesh against the ridge of his cock.

“Huh?”

“My shower's bigger than yours,” she explained, pressing her hands to his chest and continuing to roll her hips. The delicious friction was a special kind of torture, but he didn't dare tell her to stop. She was beautiful rocking above him. “We can have sex in there.”

“Or we can have sex right here,” he grumbled, even though he'd often imagined having her naked and wet in a shower.

Emma cocked a brow at him, lowering her lips to his ear. “So you haven't pictured fucking me in a shower? Naked and wet and hot? Begging you for more? Did you touch yourself and think of me?”

“Fuck,” he cursed. “Fucking minx.” He scooped her up and got up, marching to the bathroom. He planted her on the vanity, turning to start the water in the shower. The moment he was back she gripped his cock, stroking firmly the way she knew he liked.

“Touch me,” she commanded, thoroughly enjoying the power she had over him. Killian growled, hiking her legs up, fingers slipping through her soaked folds. Emma moaned, nudging her hips closer. Killian kissed her hard, plunging two fingers inside her heat, swallowing her deep moan of pleasure. She grabbed at his neck, rocking into his fingers as best she could on the narrow vanity. The steam from the shower was starting to spill over into the rest of the room, but they both ignored it as her body begged for release.

“Love when you're desperate for me,” Killian mumbled. “Tight cunt begging to be filled.”

“Oh fuck,” Emma mewled, core clenching involuntarily. She secretly loved when he talked dirty to her; it made her hot all over. “Don't stop.”

Killian fell to his knees, spreading her wide, her arousal glistening on his fingers. He took her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, Emma writhing and moaning. He didn't stop, fucking her expertly with his mouth, her hands in his hair. She came with a harsh cry, body quivering as he licked her clean. She wasn't even sure she could stand up but Killian only gave her a moment to rest while he slid the door open to the shower. He helped her in on wobbly legs, dousing them both with the hot water.

Emma gasped and brushed her wet hair back, getting a good look at him. Water poured down his sculpted chest and abs, his hair was soaked, droplets clung to his long lashes. He looked incredible and she already wanted him. Emma ran her hand of his chest and tugged him close, lowering his head to kiss him deeply. Killian pushed her back against the wall of the shower, devouring her mouth as she stroked his cock.

“Fuck, I want you,” he hissed, rocking into her hand.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she mumbled, trying to guide him to her.

But he shook his head. “We're going to take full advantage of this, love. Turn around.”

Emma bit her lip but did so. Killian lifted her left leg, resting it on the ledge and bending her over a bit. He licked water from her skin as he teased her with the tip of his cock, making her mewl with impatience. “Killian!”

“Say it, Emma.”

“God, just fuck me already!” she yelled.

“Gladly.” In one smooth thrust he was buried to the hilt, Emma moaning in pleasure. The angle was amazing; she could feel every thick inch of him, stretching her. And the burn was so fucking good. She thrust her hips back, trying to get him to move. _“God.”_

Killian stayed still for a moment longer, reveling in the warm wet feel of her before taking her with deep hard plunges. He'd pictured this so many times, as she said, often while touching himself, wondering if she'd ever really be his. But the reality was better. Emma cried out over and over and over, begging for more. He reached around and fondled her breasts, rolling the erect nipples between his fingers. Emma keened loudly, heat shooting through her, making her slicker and slicker. She braced her hands more firmly on the tile, her second high so very close.

“Come for me, love,” Killian said in her ear. “Need to feel you squeeze me.”

Emma nodded furiously, dragging one of his hands down to her clit. Together they rubbed her until she shattered, vision going white as she screamed his name. He grunted, her fluttering walls exactly what he need to join her in bliss. He spilled himself inside her, holding her close to him. They were both a bit shaky; Killian gently sat her on the ledge, brushing a kiss to her damp brow. She laced her fingers with his squeezing weakly. “I'm okay.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Give me a minute. You can wash, if you want. Soap's over there.” She nodded to the back corner. Killian turned and finally noticed the double sets of soap and shampoo.

“Which one's yours?”

“The purple one.”

Killian had to let her go to reach it, grabbing the blue loofa. Emma watched as he washed; it was quick and efficient, which made sense. When he was finished, he handed the items out to her. “May I?”

“Um, sure.” She stood up, much steadier now that she caught her breath. Emma held her wet hair up as Killian washed her thoroughly with gentle hands. After rinsing them both off, he insisted on washing her hair as well. She moaned appreciatively as he did. “Hmm, you're good at this.”

“First time's the charm it seems then.”

Emma turned and looked at him curiously. “First time?” How was that possible?

“First time washing someone else,” he clarified.

“Oh.”

“She preferred to shower alone.” He didn't need to clarify who _she_ was.

“Then her loss is my gain.”

Killian smiled. “That's the spirit.” He rinsed out her long tresses, then kissed her sweetly. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, too, Killian.” She shut off the water and climbed out, Killian following. She got him a towel then two for herself. She wrapped up her hair and dried off. “That was nice.”

“Just nice?”

“It was amazing. We should make sure our new place has a good sized shower.”

He blinked at her. “New place?”

“If you still want to, of course.” She was done being scared. When she went to law school, she wanted him there with her, wanted to start living their life.

“Emma, it's all I want, but only if you're sure.”

“I'm not saying it's gonna be sunshine and puppies all the time, but I want us, Killian.”

Killian's smile lit up the room as he picked her up and spun her around. Emma giggled happily, holding him tight. It was time to start moving forward.

They took their time getting dressed; it was later than she thought, especially after she blew her hair dry. She found clean jeans and one of her favorite sweaters, wanting the comfort of something familiar. She would need it when they went to talk to Liam later.

“Stunning as always, my love,” Killian said, as he finished buttoning his shirt.

She rolled her eyes. “Can't you ever turn that artist's brain of yours off?”

“Why would I want to do that?” He pulled her into a hug. “It got me you, didn't it?”

Emma laughed, soaking the scent of him mixed with her soap. “Do you want to talk to my mom before or after breakfast?”

“Whichever you feel is best, love. You know her better than I.”

“Nervous?”

“Perhaps a bit.”

Emma cupped his cheeks. “She going to love you. I think she already does. She knows you make me happy.”

He thumbed the dent in her chin. “That's all I've ever wanted.”

“Well, mission accomplished then.” She took his hand. “Come on, let's go.” She guided them out to the dining room and got out her phone. She dialed Ingrid's number, putting it on speaker so they could both talk. Then she held his hand. He squeezed appreciatively.

“Emma?” Ingrid asked.

“Hi Mom,” Emma said.

“Is everything okay, honey? Did you talk to Killian?”

Emma looked at him, smiling. “Yeah, I did. Uh, he's here right now actually.”

“Oh!”

“Hello, Ms. Frost,” Killian said quietly.

Ingrid laughed. “Ingrid, please. I have to admit I didn't expect this.”

“It was Killian's idea,” Emma said. “He wanted to say hello.”

“I'm so happy you did,” Ingrid said warmly. “It's good to hear you worked things out.”

“Just another bump in the road, we're fine,” Emma said, smiling at Killian. “But I think I'll let you two to talk?”

Killian looked at her with slightly wild eyes; he hadn't expected that. Emma winked at him, offering to start breakfast while he spoke to her mother. Killian turned the speaker off and lifted Emma's phone to his ear. “Your daughter is rather full of surprises this morning,” he said, chuckling.

Ingrid laughed. “She's been doing that for as long as I've known her. She's a wonderful girl.”

“That she is.”

“She's been through so much, suffered so much disappointment. I'm so proud of how strong and resilient she is.”

“I don't intend to let her down, Ingrid. Ever.”

“I believe you. I had a good feeling about you, Killian. I just want her to be happy, to have someone who loves and supports her.”

“I'd like to apologize on my brother's behalf for his behavior yesterday. I had no idea he was coming here or that he harbored so much resentment toward me. I would never have subjected Emma to that had I known.”

“Families are complicated, especially siblings,” Ingrid said wisely. “Wait until you meet my sisters!”

Killian gulped. “I, uh, look forward to that.”

“Don't fret, Killian. They'll love you.” They chatted for while longer, Killian finally relaxing when he handed the phone back to Emma. She put a plate of pancakes in front of him and he smiled gratefully. Emma kissed him briefly before going to talk to her mother privately. All in all, it went as well as he could have hoped. He meant what he said in Ingrid. He didn't ever want to let Emma down, the way others had. He wanted them to build a life together, in whatever shape she wanted. But he felt it was important to prove to Ingrid that he was serious in his intentions and that Emma wasn't some passing fancy or fling. He loved her completely.

“How are the pancakes?” Emma asked, startling him.

“Oh...they're good!” he said.

“Did I scare you?” Emma said, biting back a grin.

“Aye. I was just thinking.”

“Sorry. What were you thinking about?”

“Us, of course.”

Emma smiled shyly and got her own pancakes. “Did you want some more? I made plenty.”

“If you don't mind.” He hadn't eaten much the day before, with Liam showing up and turning his life momentarily upside down. “I thought you said you weren't much of a cook?”

“I'm not, but seems I'm dating a guy who knows what he's doing. I may have picked up a few things.”

“Happy I could help, love.”

“Who says it was you?”

He mock glared her her. “That's not funny, Emma.”

She grinned. “It's a little funny.”

“What's gotten into you today?”

Emma shrugged. “I just...the worst is over now, right? Our families know, for better or worse. We've got one week of classes left. Then we're free.”

He hadn't thought about it that way. “True. Is that why you're suddenly okay with us living together?”

Emma took a bite of her pancakes, using it as an opportunity to think. “I was scared,” she admitted. “I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop and ruin this, ruin us. Things were so good and you're amazing and far too good to me with all my issues and I was just scared.”

“Emma, I've been through some similar things. I know it's not the same, but I've just had more time to work on them than you. Doesn't mean there's something wrong with you, or you're not worthy of being loved. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. If anything... _I've_ been scared to admit just how much you mean to me, how much I need you, for fear of driving you away.”

“Guess we're kinda messed up, huh?”

“Being in love is the greatest feeling in the world. It's also the worst.”

“Because people can hurt you.”

“Exactly.”

She covered his hand with hers. “I would never hurt you, Killian. Like I said, I'll still love you even when I'm mad at you.”

“So was Liam the proverbial other shoe?”

Emma nodded. “I think so. The odds were someone was going to find out about us, right?”

“I knew some of it would be hard for him, but I never expected that.”

“Do you think he's in a better mood now?”

“Love, we don't have to talk to him today.”

“But I want to. I want to try and put this behind us. I want to move forward. With you. I don't want to be scared anymore.”

“I don't think it's quite so easy as that, darling.”

“Maybe. But we can help each other not be scared, right?”

He smiled at her. He admired her strength and tenacity so much. “I will if you will.”

“Deal.” She leaned over the table and kissed him. “I love you, Killian.”

“And I you, Emma.”

They finished their breakfast and Killian helped her clean up the kitchen. It was very domestic and she liked it. On this side of Thanksgiving, this kind of domesticity didn't frighten her as much. Killian didn't treat it as something he was doing  _for_ her; it was something they would do  _together._ A place to live that was uniquely theirs, reflecting each of their personalities. She had to admit, she liked that idea. A lot. The apartment she shared with Elsa definitely had a transitory quality to it. Students had lived there before them, plenty of students would live there after them. So while it was nice and she loved Elsa, it wasn't theirs.

Her home with Ingrid was great but it was the home of a child. She realized that when she visited. Emma wasn't a kid anymore; she was a grown up and wanted to have the responsibility of a home of her own. Sharing it with the man she loved was just a bonus. She wasn't sure what they could afford or even where they going yet, but for the first time ever, thinking of the future made her happy.

“Penny for your thoughts, love?”

She shrugged. “I was just thinking about the homes I've had. And will have.”

He smiled. “That sounds nice, will have.”

She put down the towel she was using and took his hand. She guided him to the living room, plopping then down on the couch. “You know one of the things I love best about you?”

“What's that?”

“That you trust me to figure things out. I know you're older than me and everything, but it means a lot.”

“I don't know any other way, lass. I want you to be with me because it's your choice, not because it's something you think I want.”

“Is it sad that I didn't understand the difference until recently?”

He shook his head. “You're young, Emma. I mean, not that young, but you've still got your whole life ahead of you. Things like that come with time.”

“Thank you for being so patient.”

“You're worth it, Emma. Always.”

She smiled, drawing his lips to hers for a kiss. It was meant to be brief, but their bodies had other ideas. Killian cupped the back of her head, holding her steady as he kissed her, sweetly, tenderly, just a hint of passion. She curled her fingers in his shirt, pausing for breath before diving back in. They giggled and laughed, happily making out on her couch.

At some point, she wound up on her back, Killian draped over her, his hand sliding up under her sweater. They were going very slowly, just savoring the moment. She had her leg hooked around his hip, eyes closed, enjoying the solidness of him above her. He nipped at her pulse and she groaned, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Killian...”

“Hmm?”

“Don't stop.”

“Never.” He kissed her harder, sucking on her tongue, yanking the cup of her bra aside. She arched under him, desire shooting through her...and then she heard the lock turn in the front door.

“Shit, it's Elsa!” Emma screeched, the fire in her belly doused instantly. They scrambled up, but there was nothing they could do about the state of their clothes and hair before Elsa stepped through the door.

“Oh my goodness!” Elsa cried, covering her eyes when she came in. “I didn't think anyone was here! I am so sorry!”

Killian was torn between being mortified, amused and put out. He knew it wasn't anyone fault, but this kind of thing definitely would not happen if he and Emma lived together. He straightened his shirt and carefully folded his hands in his lap, waiting for his half hard erection to subside. Emma smoothed her hair down and fixed her shirt; she couldn't fix her bra right now, it would have to wait.

“Um, hi, Elsa,” she said, a bit lamely.

“Uh, hi. Emma. Killian. It is, ah, safe to look now?”

Emma looked at Killian, who looked a bit pained. She smiled sympathetically. “Yeah, we're good.”

Elsa uncovered her eyes. “So you're home early.”

“So are you.”

“And Killian's here.”

“Yeah, it's a long story. Can I tell you later?”

Elsa laughed...then they all laughed. Emma laughed until tears were streaming down her cheeks. Killian was holding his side. Elsa was just caught up in the absurdity of the situation. Once they calmed down, Killian looked at Emma. “I'll give you two a moment to talk. Shall I call Liam and let him know we're on our way?”

Emma wiped her eyes and nodded. “Sure.” She made a point to kiss him before he left, not embarrassed to be with him. He smirked at her and mouthed “later” as he left.

“So what's going on?” Elsa asked quickly.

“It really is a long story. The short version is, I came home to surprise Killian and his brother was already there. Some, um, things were said and I left. Killian came after me and we've been here ever since.”

“When did this happen?”

Emma cringed. “Yesterday.”

“It seems you two worked it out,” Elsa said with a sly grin.

Emma mock smacked her arm. “Elsa!”

“Although that is a lot of more Killian than I ever expected to see!”

Emma groaned. “I really did think you'd be home later.”

“It's really okay. A little mortifying, but okay. You guys are madly in love; I'm sure I won't be the last one to walk in on you two.”

Emma slumped back in the couch. “I'm really beginning to see Killian's point about having our own place.”

Elsa's brows shot up in surprise. “You're moving in together?” she screeched.

“Shh!” Emma hissed, even though the only one who could hear them was Killian. “Not until I go to law school. That's what we were talking about before, um...”

“You decided to make out instead?”

Emma scrubbed her hand over her face. “God, this is embarrassing.”

Elsa sat next to her. “Still, Emma, that's a big step.”

“I know, but I've been talking to Ingrid...”

“Wait, your mom knows?”

“Apparently, she's known the whole time.”

“Wow. And she's...okay with it?”

Emma nodded. “Yep. We called her this morning. She wants us to visit her before we go to London visit Killian's family at Christmas.”

Elsa just looked gobsmacked. “I've missed a  _lot_ of stuff!” she exclaimed. 

Emma cringed again. “I'm sorry, Elsa. A lot has happened just this week. The storm, then I left. You were with your family, I didn't want to bother you.”

“Emma, you're like a sister to me. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. How about we have a girls' night this week and I'll fill you in on everything?”

“Okay. Think he can spare you for an evening?” Elsa asked teasingly.

She nodded. “Yeah. It's not we're co-dependent or anything, sheesh.”

“I'm just teasing, Emma. Although you two did look pretty attached when I came in.”

Emma took a pillow and threw it at Elsa. Elsa grabbed one and threw it back. They were still at it, giggling like mad when Killian returned. He smiled at the pair of them; they were adorable. He waited patiently until Emma spotted him. “Everything okay?”

“Aye. Liam's waiting whenever we're ready. But by all means, continue your game.”

Emma scowled and threw a pillow at  _him_ . He ducked only to get hit full in the face by another thrown by Elsa. And just like that, the game started again, Emma dashing to her bedroom for more pillows. They came perilously close to knocking over a couple of Elsa's sculptures but everything was safe. When they all ran out of steam, Killian was sprawled on the floor, his head in Emma's lap. She ran her fingers through his now dry hair; it was soft to the touch.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“I can't remember the last time I did something so childish,” Killian mumbled.

“But it was fun.”

“Very.” His crooked grin made her smile as he brought her hand to his lips to be kissed.

“I think this is my cue to leave,” Elsa said, getting up. “I'll see you two later.”

“I think we scarred her,” Emma joked.

“We should be glad it was her and not someone else, I guess.”

“Yeah. I'll be glad when our sneaking around days are over.”

“Less than a week.”

“What about finals?”

“Your job ends on the last day of class. As soon as the last one is over, we are free.”

“Then I can kiss you anywhere I want.”

“Indeed you may. In fact, it's highly encouraged.”

Emma lowered her head. “Like this?” she asked softly, brushing her lips over his.

“Aye.” He wove his hand into her hair, holding her close as he kissed her again. They paused only long enough for Emma to stretch out on the floor beside him. She could forget the entire world existed when he kissed her like this. In no rush, no hurry, like it was his sole mission in life.

“We should probably go before Elsa comes out of her room,” Emma said, stroking his cheek. He needed to shave, but she didn't mind.

Killian tightened his hold on her. “Probably.”

“What did Liam say?”

“Just that he's anxious to apologize. He hopes you eventually forgive him and see he's not a total arse. Oh, and Molly will be there via phone.”

“Is that okay?”

“She's insisting. Liam says he talked to her right after I left and she lit into him. She wants to meet you, if that's okay.” Killian stroked her hair adoringly. He wanted Emma to like his family, wanted them to all get along, but she was the thing he couldn't live without.

“I'd love to meet her.”

“We can wait,” Killian reminded her. “We don't have to do this now. The wound is still fresh.”

“Which is the best time to begin to heal it. What Liam said hurt me a lot, but he didn't know. If he's willing to make amends, then I can hear him out.”

Killian kissed her brow. “I love you so much, Emma.”

“I appreciate that you want to give me time, but I think we should confront this. For both of us.”

“Okay.” She jumped when his hand slid under her sweater again, deftly putting her bra to rights. “Only fair since I dislodged it in the first place.”

“And you wanted to cop a feel.”

“We will resume what we started, lass. Make no mistake about that.”

“Should probably be in your bed, don't you think?”

“Or elsewhere if Liam leaves early enough.”

“You can't kick your brother out so we can have sex!”

“Who says?” he asked, unrepentant.

“You're hopeless.”

“If by that you mean helplessly in love with you, then yes, I am guilty.”

She smacked his chest. “Come on, let's go see your brother.”

Despite her brave words, Emma felt a high level of trepidation as they pulled into Killian's driveway. She had her things with her, hoping to stay the night before the last week of classes. She had a lot of schoolwork to get done this upcoming week and she didn't know how much time she'd get with Killian, between that and resuming shifts at Granny's. But if the talk with Liam got uncomfortable, she'd ask Killian to take her back to the apartment.

Killian noted her latent anxiety and wished there was more he could do. What Liam had said was terrible; he was still a little angry at Liam himself. He believed Liam was genuinely contrite, but his priority was Emma's well being. If Liam lost his temper again, Killian was going to lose it. He shut off the engine and took her hand, squeezing gently. “If you're not ready...”

Emma squeezed back, grateful for his support. “I'm ready.”

Killian smiled faintly, leaning over to kiss her. “I'll be right there with you, love. I promise.”

“I know.” She smiled and turned to open the door. They got out and walked to the front door, Emma's bag on her shoulder. Killian unlocked it and ushered her inside.

“Liam?” he called.

“In here!”

Killian shared a look with Emma, who left her bag in the hall. They held hands as they headed in the direction of Liam's voice. He was in the living room, staring intently at his phone, sitting in one of the armchairs. He looked up, blue eyes sad and remorseful. Liam swallowed. “Hi.”

Killian stepped up. “Liam, this is Emma Swan. Emma, this is my brother, Liam.”

Emma took a moment to size the older man up, secretly pleased when he squirmed a bit. Then she held out her hand. “It's good to finally meet you,” she said. “Killian's told me so much about you.”

Liam stood, clasping her hand and giving it a brief shake. “I can't tell you how very sorry I am that our first meeting went so poorly,” he said seriously. “I was rude and out of line. I hope one day you can forgive me, Emma.”

“I hope so too.” She and Killian settled on the couch while Liam resumed his seat in the chair. The air was thick with tension, no one quite knowing what to say. Emma decided to break the silence. “How's your wife?” she asked Liam. “Molly's her name, right?”

Liam let out a breath, eyeing Killian. He was at a distinct disadvantage, knowing so little about Emma. “Aye, that's her. She's well. Nearly shouted me deaf when I told her what happened, but anxious to meet you, lass.”

Emma smiled. “I'd love to meet her too.”

Liam glanced at his phone nervously. “I can, ah, call her...if you like.”

“Does she have your laptop?” Killian asked. “Skype might be better, then we can see her and she can see Emma.”

Liam nodded. “Aye, she does. I'll let her know.”

Killian turned to Emma. “Mine's in my room. I'll be right back.”

“I'll be fine. Go.” She gave him a little shove.

As soon as Killian was out of the room, Liam spoke up. “He really cares about you.”

“I really care about him. I know how we met may not seem right to you, but I would never, ever hurt him. We both know what that's like and it sucks. I want to be with him.”

Liam nodded. “My outburst didn't have anything to do with you, lass. I swear. I was angry and upset, feeling like I was losing my brother when I needed him the most and I took it out on you. But Killian wouldn't back down. He defended you, most vigorously. Despite my anger, I was proud of him for standing up for what he wants in life. And he wants you.”

“I don't want him to lose his family because of me. I grew up without one; I wouldn't wish that life on anyone.”

Liam looked pained. “I spoke out of turn. I was desperate to bring him home, not realizing he'd found one here. Or rather not wanting to accept it.”

“He's so excited about being an uncle,” Emma said. “He speaks of you and Molly a lot. And I know he misses you, but I think he's happy. At least I hope he is.”

Liam nodded. “I noticed, you know. The last few months when I would call. I noticed something was different about him. He sounded happier, more content. I'm fairly certain that can be traced back to you. And if you are as happy as Molly and I, then I would have to be the world's biggest arse to not want that for him. Even if it means I won't see him as often.”

Emma took a deep breath. “We'd still like to come for Christmas. I've never been to London.”

“We would love to have you, lass.”

Killian smiled from his hiding place in the hall. It had only taken him a moment to get his laptop, but when he came back, he heard them talking. He was loathe to interrupt. It gave him hope that their families could work this out and be happy for them. When they fell silent, he came around the corner. “Got it!”

Emma looked at him skeptically. “Took you long enough.”

“Oi! It was under the bed,” he fibbed.

She rolled her eyes, knowing he was lying. But it gave she and Liam a chance to talk, so she wasn't mad. “Sure it was.” She patted the seat next to her. “Let's show Molly her husband.”

Killian sat and opened up the laptop. He logged into Skype and dialed Liam. When Molly came into view, he laid the computer on the nearby coffee table so she could see everyone. “Hello, Molly.”

Molly smiled. She was very pretty, a brunette with hazel eyes. Emma liked her already. “Hi, Killian. Is that your Emma?”

Emma blushed and waved. “Hi, Molly. And yeah, I'm Emma. How are you?”

Molly waved back. “I'm well considering my idiot husband flew three thousand miles to insult family. I do hope he's apologized?”

Liam groaned. “Yes, dear,” he said, leaning into view. “No need to start shouting.”

Molly grinned, pleased. “So I hear you gave him a good tongue lashing, Emma. Good for you. Those Jones boys can be stubborn arses.”

Emma laughed. “I noticed that.” She looked fondly at Killian. “Good thing they're cute.”

Killian pretended to scowl. “Not this again.”

“You can't blame the woman for having eyes, Killian,” Molly admonished. “I've always said you were cute.”

“But you're my sister in law, not the woman I love.”

“So?” Emma and Molly said together. Everyone laughed, cutting through the last of the tension considerably. Molly was just a ray of sunshine; Emma was even more eager to meet her in person now.

“You two make a very sweet couple,” Molly said, beaming at them. “Don't they, Liam?”

Liam cleared his throat. “Aye, love. I was wrong. Happy now?”

“Very. But your son or daughter wonders when Papa is coming home?”

Liam's face softened. Emma could see that he was happy to be a dad, even if he was a little scared. And he was crazy about his wife. “Soon. I've got the first flight tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Killian said, a bit disappointed.

“We'll see you both really soon,” Emma promised. “My mom is eager to meet you too, if that's okay.”

“Oh!” Molly exclaimed. “The more the merrier, dear. We've got plenty of room. And you can see the nursery!”

“It's a date then,” Emma said, smiling. This had gone better than she could have hoped. Really, they all wanted the same thing, for Killian to be happy.

Killian gestured for his brother to leave the women to talk. Liam nodded and followed him into the kitchen. “You were right, Killian,” Liam said slowly. “She's a lovely lass. I'm sorry for being such a ponce.”

“It's her forgiveness you need not mine. But apology accepted.”

“She loves you. Fiercely. I understand why you love her so much.”

“She brought me back to life. When I was lost, she was the light. I can't imagine my life without her.”

“I know I can't change what I said. But I'm happy for you, brother. Truly.” He clapped Killian on the shoulder. “We'll figure the rest out as we go, yeah?”

Killian nodded, then moved to hug his brother. Liam was taken aback for a moment, but hugged him back tightly. “I've missed you, Liam.”

“Me too.” They broke apart and Killian got them both a drink. They silently toasted the women who loved them and drank.

After hanging up with Molly, the three of them had dinner together, allowing Liam and Emma a chance to get to know each other better. It was a little awkward, but Killian thought it was a success. They talked about the law schools Emma was applying to; Liam told some stories about when they were children. Emma found them highly amusing, Killian less so. Liam had an early flight and they had class, so everyone turned in early, Emma having decided to stay.

She headed for Killian's room while the brothers said goodnight. She was already in her pajamas when Killian arrived. He stripped to his boxers and joined her in the bed. “Finally alone,” he murmured.

Emma giggled. “It wasn't that bad.”

“You were very magnanimous,” he said, kissing the crown of her head as she snuggled into his side.

“He's sorry,” she replied thoughtfully. “And he misses you. He was trying to look out for you in a very condescending way. But I don't think I can hate anyone who loves you that much.”

“Perhaps this would have happened no matter what,” Killian mused. “I'm still sorry he hurt you, love.”

“Hey, we're moving forward,” she said, hugging him tight. “I'll be fine.”

“As long as you're happy, sweetheart.”

“Well, I am. Very happy, Killian.”

“I'm pleased to hear that.” He tipped her chin up, brushing her lips with his. “Will you be very busy this week?”

“Probably. I've got papers to edit, studying for a pair of finals and the LSATs. I promised Elsa some girl time. And I've got a few shifts at Granny's.”

“I will miss you.”

“Hey, I'm here now. And I'll be here as soon as finals are over. If you don't mind quizzing me for the LSATs?”

“Of course not. The exam is very important, yes?”

“Yeah. It kinda determines which schools I can actually apply to.”

“Where do you want to go?”

Emma shrugged. “Mom asked me that. I'm not sure. But I've got a lot of options, provided I do well on the exam. And my internship will look good on my application.”

“I'm looking forward to that.”

“You're looking forward to hanging out in the capital while I work?”

He shrugged. “They have a outstanding art collection in the capitol building, love. And a gallery. And I can work on some of my art. And pamper you outrageously when you're finished working.”

Emma grinned. “Back rubs?”

“Whatever you wish. We can consider it a dry run for our new home.”

“Think we can handle that? Living together?”

Killian cupped her chin. “I do. I know I miss you when you're not here. I know why you feel having your own space is important, love. We can do that, an office for you, a studio for me. We had fun those days we were cooped up due to the storm.”

“Yeah, I even got work done.”

“You say that with such surprise, darling.”

“Well, when I'm here we do get a bit wrapped up in each other.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“No! No. I like being wrapped up with you.” She kissed him quickly. “But it's good to know we can do our own thing too.”

“I would never want to stifle you, Emma. Your independence and strength is one of the things I love about you.”

Emma smiled, her heart melting. She adored him so much. She got up on her elbows and draped herself across his chest, cupping his cheeks and kissing him. Killian moaned softly, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her back. It didn't take them long to pick up precisely where they'd left off.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: The sexytimes in the second half? Definitely fall into the "DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME" category. Remember, it's fiction, everyone. PSA over.

It was finally here. The last day of classes. And not only that, but the last class, period. As Emma slipped off her robe, she wondered at how much her life had changed in the past three months.

And it was all due to the man watching her intently from the back of the room.

It was the final advanced class of the semester, late Friday afternoon. Emma had taken this job to earn the money for her upcoming internship, but really in answer to the challenge laid out before her by Killian. Even then, they understood one another, and challenged each other to be more than they were before. That connection had blossomed into something life changing and Emma was so thankful for that. She flashed him a small smile, feeling a tad reckless, as she assumed her pose on the long chaise. In a way, she would miss this when it was over; she'd discovered things about herself that she'd never dreamed possible before.

Being naked six times a week in front of fifty odd people took a certain kind of courage.

But she didn't feel naked. She couldn't feel anything less than incredible with the way Killian looked at her. He was in the far back, sketch pad out, drawing. She was the subject, but she highly doubted it had anything to do with how she was posed at the moment. She secretly hoped it was another of his erotic drawings; she had over a dozen of them tucked away in her closet. He helped her become more comfortable in her own skin, embrace her femininity without diminishing her strength. She didn't have to play the tomboy or the seductress to get what she wanted. She merely had to be herself.

But seducing _him_ was one of her favorite pastimes.

Killian noticed her watching him and he smiled gently. In a couple of hours he would no longer need to hide how much he cared for her. Not that he was doing a very good job at the moment. They'd been a bit reckless all week, the enforced circumspection getting to them. Several times he was tempted to say the hell with the rules, but Emma's good standing and prospective future ultimately won out. Their liaison would hurt her future far more than his; he'd accepted the risks when he got involved with her. They'd been very circumspect for most of the semester; he wasn't too concerned. It was very, very rare for an affair such as theirs to be outed or so the gossip went. In a couple of hours it wouldn't matter anyway, even if they were discovered.

He returned his attention to his sketch, shading in the smooth curve of her back. It was another variation on the painting he wanted to do of her; all they lacked was the time. She'd been extraordinarily busy all week, just as she'd said. They only saw each other for class, stealing hot passionate kisses where they could. She had homework and shifts at Granny's; Killian spent a bit more time at the gym, taking out his frustration on the machines there. But they talked every night before bed, catching each other up on their days.

He longed for the days when he could hold her every night as they fell asleep.

When he wasn't puttering around his studio or working himself to exhaustion, he spent some time on his laptop, speaking to his brother and sister in law, preparing things for the Christmas visit. It would be Emma's first trip to England; he wanted it to be memorable. Killian himself hadn't been back in over two years; he was surprised at all the changes Molly spoke of. He bought plane tickets and researched things for them to do. He didn't want too much structure, as they had about three whole weeks there, but Molly was a planner. She was very excited to see Killian and to meet Emma in person. She was genuinely happy to see Killian happy and welcomed Emma with open arms. He was very grateful to her, especially after the rocky way Emma had met Liam.

At break, Killian went through the normal routine of marking Emma's place before she robed and stretched. She shivered under his touch. “Cold?” he asked softly.

Emma licked her lips and caught his hand. “Not really,” she whispered. “I think it's you.”

He swallowed, allowing his hand to skim over her breast. “I miss you too, love,” he whispered back.

She nodded, green eyes flashing briefly with heat. “I'm meeting Elsa later but...”

“We should do your exit interview?” he asked, biting the inside of his cheek to stop from grinning lecherously.

“If you have a few minutes.”

“Of course.” He let her up, handing her the robe. He had to back up and away from her before he did something foolish. They hadn't gone this long without sex since the early days of their relationship; it was a boost to his ego that she needed him just as much as he needed her. Perhaps their need would cool off at some point but that didn't seem to be any time soon.

The rest of class was torture, watching her up there on the platform, gloriously nude and he unable to touch her. Emma couldn't stop staring at him, picturing him without his clothes. It brought a faint flush to her skin but she couldn't help it. It was one of the longest hours of her life.

Finally, it was over and she dressed in record time. Killian was telling the students where to leave their work for hanging in the end of semester show he was organizing. Emma knew he was really just waiting for her. Before the last student left they were out the door, walking side by side across the lawn to the building which held his office. Killian let their hands brush together; technically they were free, but he got the impression that Emma wanted to treat this as their final clandestine rendezvous, which didn't bother him in the slightest. It did add a certain spice to their longing and desire.

Emma bent her head against the cold air, wishing she'd doffed her beanie. But it was only a couple of minutes walk to Killian's office. The moment they were inside she dropped her bag and shrugged out of her coat. She hardly had her scarf unwound when Killian was at her back, arms around her waist, sucking greedily on her neck. “Fuck, I've missed you so much,” he mumbled into her skin.

“You've seen me almost every day,” she reminded him, bringing his hands to the fly of her jeans. He didn't waist a second, button and zipper undone in moments, one hand down her blue lace panties. She hadn't known they were going to do this today but she'd missed his touch. He skimmed over her bare mound, middle finger quickly finding her aching clit. “Jesus.”

Killian smiled into the crook of her neck, feeling her shudder in his arms. She was already so hot for him; it was intoxicating. “That's Killian, love.”

Emma rolled her hips, trying to get more friction, but all she succeeded in doing was rubbing her ass over his growing erection. She reached up behind her head and wove her fingers into his hair. “Fuck, I need you.”

Killian teased her soaking flesh. “Miss me?” he asked in a low voice, nipping at her earlobe.

“Yes,” she hissed. She was rubbing against him like a cat in heat and she didn't even care. They didn't have long; she was supposed to meet Elsa for dinner and girl time in an hour or so. But she needed this too, needed the passion that only Killian could give her. “Fuck.”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “We don't want everyone to listen to me ravish you, now do we?”

“Would...oh god...serve the...fangirls right,” she muttered, unbuttoning her blouse. It was uncomfortably hot in the tiny office. Killian squeezed her breast the moment the offending cloth was gone, shoving down the cup of her bra.

“Jealous, darling?”

Emma snorted. “You're mine,” she hissed, blouse falling to the floor, her hand blindly finding the bulge in his pants. She was rewarded with a low sexy groan as she stroked him through the denim.

“And you're mine,” Killian replied, sinking two fingers into her wet sheath. She was so needy and desperate for him that she rode his fingers eagerly, wantonly, seeking her high. It didn't take long, having been so wound up already. She fell with a soft cry, Killian murmuring filthy things in her ear. She felt the loss the moment his fingers slipped out and she brazenly caught his hand in hers, sucking those drenched fingers into her mouth. Killian moaned, hips rutting against the soft curve of her ass as she licked him clean, tasting herself. “Bloody hell.”

Emma turned, snatching his hands and dragging them to the nearest flat surface, which happened to be the far wall. “I want you to take me right here against the wall,” she said, already jerking his fly open. She slipped her hand inside his boxers, stroking him to even greater hardness. Killian had to brace his hands on either side of her, rocking into her grip, a bolt of desire shooting through him.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, completely turned on by her need for him. “Don't stop.”

Emma was torn between touching him (she loved the way he felt in her hand, all velvet hard smoothness) and getting them both naked. “You locked the door?”

Killian could hardly remember his own name at the moment but he nodded. “Aye, no one sees you but me now.”

Emma groaned, using her free hand to drag his lips to hers. She kissed him passionately, pleading with him to touch her. She felt his hands slid to her hips, shoving her jeans down. Emma toed off her shoes and finished shucking her pants. Meanwhile, Killian dragged the straps of her bra down and bent to suckle at her nipple. She keened and twisted her hand around his cock, making him hiss. She released him to finish stripping him, clumsy fingers fiddling with the buttons of his vest and shirt. Soon the only thing that separated them was her panties and his boxers; all their other clothes thrown haphazardly to the floor.

“Hurry,” Emma panted, yanking on his boxers. “Need you in me _now_.”

Killian thought he would tear the lace in his haste, but he got them off, hauling her up the moment he was free of his boxers. Emma wrapped her legs around him eagerly, her core rubbing over his thick throbbing cock. They both groaned, Emma quickly covering his mouth with hers, swallowing their sounds of pleasure as he finally pushed into her needy cunt. She hung on tight, head buried in his neck as he fucked her, legs high on his hips, changing the angle every few thrusts. She whimpered; it felt so good feeling him move inside her, filling her up.

“So fucking good,” he panted against her ear. “So tight and hot for me, lass.”

“More,” she pleaded, meeting his deep thrusts as best she could. “Shit.”

Killian grunted, hands sliding under her ass. He supported her weight, moving them to the messy desk. He lay Emma back, sprawled over papers and drawings, spreading her legs wide and thrusting inside her slowly. He watched as his cock disappeared inside her cunt, glistening with her arousal. Emma shuddered when he found her g spot, biting her lip to keep from moaning. She reached for him and bent down, kissing her deeply, stifling her whimpers of pleasure.

She was shaking, trembling; he knew she was close. Killian reached between them and stroked her clit with his thumb as he picked up his pace. “Let go, Emma,” he hissed, feeling her getting slicker. His thrusts were getting erratic; he was close too. But he needed her to fall first.

Emma locked her ankles his on his back, her own back bowing as she came, walls gripping him tight. Her blunt nails dug into his biceps, the pain triggering his own orgasm. He grunted harshly, riding her until they were both spent.

Killian collapsed across her, breathing harshly. Emma lowered her legs and rubbed his back, also trying to catch her breath. Her skin still buzzed, coated in a light sheen of sweat. She pressed kisses to whatever bare skin she could reach, reluctant to let him go just yet. She'd gotten accustomed to having him near; this week she'd missed him a lot. She was simply more at peace with with herself when he was close.

“That was...” he murmured.

“Amazing,” she finished, cupping his cheeks. She kissed him, then smiled up at him. “It's always amazing with you, babe.”

He grinned, still not over her endearment for him. It was adorable. He'd never had one before. “Aye,” he agreed, rubbing her nose with his and brushing her lips. “It's never felt like this. With anyone.”

She felt her heart clench, still stunned that she was enough for him. All he wanted was her, to make her happy. “I know what you mean.”

“We should dress,” he said reluctantly.

“Yeah.” She drew him down to her for another languid kiss, soaking in the last few moments of them being skin on skin. She felt the loss the moment he stepped back, bending to hand her some of her clothes. They dressed in silence, the only sound was the rustling of fabric. Once they were decent again, Killian pulled her into a hug.

“I have a request to make, sweetheart.”

“What's that?”

“Are you free tomorrow night?”

She looked up at him. “Yeah, why?”

“I thought we might celebrate our freedom. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

She chuckled. “I would be delighted,” she said, standing on her toes to kiss him. “Do I get any clues? Or is it a surprise?”

He smiled mysteriously. “Oh, I think I'll keep it a surprise for a bit.”

“You know, I never liked surprises before,” she mused, laying her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating. “But I do now.”

“Might I have had something to do with this change?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you believe we're finally free?”

“I don't think it's sunk in yet. Does it feel different to you?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. But it will. My love for you won't change, Emma.”

“I know.” That was something she was afraid of in the beginning. That hiding and sneaking around was part of what drew him to her. But she knew better now. He _wanted_ to be seen with her in public, wanted to meet her family and friends. And now they could. “I can't wait to see Mary Margaret's face.”

“The lass who tried to set you up?”

“Yeah. When she sees you, she'll flip.”

“In a good way, I trust?”

Emma thumbed the scar on his cheek. “In a very good way. Because I clearly have superior taste in men.”

He smirked down at her. “Is that so?”

“Ruby's going to be so jealous. And she's dated football players.”

“I believe I should take that as a compliment?”

Emma reached around and squeezed his ass. “You definitely should. You're hot.”

He actually felt himself flushing. His Emma was very keen to show him off and it made him both embarrassed and giddy. “But I only belong to you.”

“Damn straight.” She smiled and kissed him swiftly. “Speaking of friends, I need to get going. I'm going to be late for Elsa as it is.”

He pretended to pout. “Must you?”

She looked stern. “You know I promised her girl time.”

“I know. I'm just teasing, love.” He kissed her brow. “Have a good time. Tell Elsa I said hello.”

“I will.” She moved to put on her coat. “I'll call you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay.” He kissed her one last time, then went to check that the coast was clear. Once again, the hall was empty and he ushered Emma out, waving until she turned the corner.

Emma wished she were going home with Killian, but at the same time, she was eager to spend some time with her friends. They were meeting Ruby at Granny's, then planned on doing some shopping. She wanted to find a few things to wear on their trip to London, but Ruby didn't need to know that. Then again...what was the harm? They were free. If she wanted to tell her friends, she  _could._ But her words to Killian notwithstanding, she kind of enjoyed keeping him to herself. She decided that if it came up, she wouldn't lie. But she wasn't going to volunteer information either.

Emma swung by her apartment, dropping off her school things and picking up Elsa. “Are we all going to fit in this?” Elsa said, climbing in the passenger seat.

“Hey! I love my Bug.”

Elsa grinned. “It's certainly unique.”

“I bought her myself, so I'll take that as a compliment.” Emma pulled into traffic. “Killian says hi by the way.”

Elsa giggled. “How is he?”

Emma flushed, remembering their tryst in his office. “He's good. Thrilled we don't have to keep hiding. I talked to him before I came to get you.”

“Just talked?”

Emma's blush deepened. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No, I suppose not. As long as you're happy.”

She smiled, glancing over when they got to a red light. “I really am. Now that we're done hiding, I'm really excited for what comes next.”

“Like moving in together?”

Emma nodded. “We'd talked about it a few times. I wasn't sure I was ready; scared, I guess. Worried that it was all going to blow up in our faces, you know? I'm not used to...needing people.”

Elsa nodded wisely. She'd been through a similar time with Emma when they first became roommates. “But you're not anymore? Scared, I mean.”

Emma shrugged. “Maybe a little. But I don't want to be. And he doesn't either. Did I tell you he's been afraid to tell me how much he needs me because I thought I'd run?”

Elsa's eyes widened. “You didn't, but I'm not that surprised. You can be a bit prickly.”

“Prickly?”

“In a very lovable way, Emma.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Okay, yeah. But I trust him. I can't explain it; I just do. It's kind of like what Ingrid said. I know we'll disagree and fight sometimes, but I want to work it out. I don't want to run anymore.”

“Emma...that's amazing. I'm really happy for you.”

“Anything else you want to know? This traffic is moving like a snail.”

“How did your mom find out?”

Emma laughed. “Remember when she visited?” Elsa nodded. “Well, she met Killian. She says she knew when she saw us together, even though we thought we were being casual.”

“You guys do tend to stare,” Elsa observed.

“Hey!”

“What? It's true. I've only been in the same room with you a couple of times and it's all over your faces. He adores you. And you...your face just lights up when you see him. It's really sweet.”

“Guess it's a good thing we don't have to hide that now since we've been doing such a bad job,” Emma snarked.

“Most people aren't very observant; I'm sure your secret is safe for a while longer. Are you going to keep it a secret?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Is it wrong that I like thinking of him as mine? Like the one thing I don't have to share?”

Elsa looked thoughtful. “No. But I'm sure your friends would like to meet him eventually. Plus Mary Margaret can't set you up on another blind date.”

“She wouldn't.”

“Probably not.”

“I do want to see her face when she meets Killian though,” Emma confessed.

Elsa giggled. “Yeah, that will be fun. Let's hope he gets along with David.”

“He will. Killian could use some guy friends actually.” She felt a bit bad because she had friends to spend time with; Killian was a loner (admittedly by choice until recently) whose closest family was three thousand miles away. For that reason, she hoped he and David would hit it off.

Finally, she pulled into the garage. They both bundled up and walked around the block to Granny's. Ruby was just finishing up her shift when they stepped through the door. “I got us the special,” the brunette called, heading for the changing room. “Have a seat and I'll be right out!”

“Don't you ever get tired of Granny's?” Elsa asked, hanging up her coat on the rack.

“Not really. The food's always good. Maybe after I've been on feet after a double shift. But now Killian gives me the most amazing foot rubs,” Emma replied, removing her own coat and edging into the nearby booth.

“The man does have skillful hands.”

Emma scowled. “Watch it, Elsa.”

“ _As an artist.”_ Elsa said, grinning mischievously. “Which I'm sure translates to other things. I did take his class, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Emma sipped some of the Coke Ruby had left, trying not be jealous. Elsa's comment was innocent. She and Killian were both artists, for crying out loud.

“You really are crazy about him if _that_ makes you jealous.”

“I'm not jealous.”

“Who's jealous?” Ruby asked, her bangles clacking together.

“No one, Ruby,” Emma said. “We should eat so we can get out before the stores close.”

“Suit yourself.” She slid in next to Elsa and the three of them dug into their specials. Emma forgot all about her minor flash of jealousy as she got caught up on all her friends' news. Anna's year off wasn't going as well as she hoped; Elsa thought there was a good chance her sister would start school in the coming spring semester. They were going to spend winter break in Aspen, skiing. Ruby talked about her friend Graham, the one who'd danced with Emma at Halloween.

“He still asks about you,” Ruby said, slurping on her milkshake. “Wants me to fix you up. But I said it was a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“I heard about Mary Margaret. I need to stay in your good graces in case we need to switch shifts.”

“I wasn't that mean to her,” Emma complained. “She just surprised me, is all.”

“No other reason?” Ruby asked, one brow raised.

“Does there need to be?”

“No, but I'm sure the hickey on your neck would disagree.”

Emma dropped her fork.  _“What?”_

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Ruby asked. “Oops.”

Emma turned to Elsa. “Is she serious?”

Elsa pushed some of Emma's hair back, eyes widening. “I'm afraid so.”

Emma groaned. “Damn him.” It must have been when he was sucking so fervently on her neck when they got to his office. He could mark her now, since she was no longer the model for his classes. She should have known he'd take advantage of that first chance he got.

Ruby's eyes lit up. “Ooooh, damn  _who_ , Emma? Please tell me!”

Emma shared a glance with Elsa. There wasn't any point in lying; the cat seemed to be out of the bag. At least it was just Ruby for now. “My boyfriend, Ruby,” she said, rearranging her hair.

“I knew there was something weird with you!” Ruby cried. “For weeks, I thought you seemed different. Tell me everything! How did you meet him? What's his name? Is he hot? Judging by that hickey, I bet he's hot.”

They got another round of milkshakes while Emma told the story, leaving out the most intimate parts. Ruby seemed delighted, going on about how romantic it was. She squealed over the picture Emma showed her, jokingly wondering if he had a brother.

Emma laughed. “He does, but Liam's already married. Sorry, Ruby.”

“That's okay. So how is he in bed?”

Emma almost choked on her milkshake. “I am not telling you that.”

“Just a hint? I'm dying here!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine. The sex is amazing, okay?”

“They can't keep their hands off each other,” Elsa said matter of factly. “I've already walked in on them.”

“We were fully clothed!” Emma cried indignantly.

“But not everything was where it was supposed to be,” Elsa reminded her. “And you were well on your way to being unclothed.”

“I hate you both,” Emma muttered into her glass.

Ruby paid them no heed. “Why can't I fall in love with an artist?” she asked dreamily.

“Mine's taken so you're on your own.”

“You said you're going to London for Christmas?” Ruby asked.

“Yep. Killian wants me to meet his family. His sister in law can't travel; she's pregnant.”

“That's a big deal, Emma, meeting the guy's family.”

“I know, which is why I want to do some shopping. You guys game?” They both answered in the affirmative and they headed out, first bundling up in their coats. Elsa was right; it was a tight squeeze in the Bug with Ruby in the backseat, but they managed. It was Friday night so the stores were open a little later. They hit some of the same ones Emma and Elsa had gone to at Halloween, only this time nothing smelled like moth balls. Ruby tried to get Emma to buy some lingerie but Emma pointed out that Killian didn't really seem to care. She had some perfectly nice matching sets already; her clothes never lasted long when she and Killian were together anyway.

She had to admit it was nice having someone other than Elsa or her mother to talk to about Killian. And Ruby was boy crazy in any case. Emma certainly didn't need the advice but Ruby was all too happy to provide it. Emma let her chatter on, dodging the brunette's more intimate questions. She liked Ruby and thought of Elsa like a sister, but she wanted to keep some things private.

It was late by the time they got home; she had time for a brief chat with Killian before sleep claimed her. She wanted to tell him all about Ruby and tease him about her hickey but she was just too tired. There was always their date the following night.

* * *

Killian spent most of Saturday in the makeshift gallery the department had given him. He could have laid out the show the night before, but he had plans for the room that required campus to be empty. Teachers and students were gearing up for finals, leaving Killian to his own devices.

He knew Emma had to work, but it felt like she was there in spirit. After all, it was her image—in various states of quality—that shown back at him as he hung the show. In a little while she would be there in the flesh for their date. He'd fantasized about this since the announcement of the show; he thought it would be a splendid way to celebrate their newfound freedom.

As the time got closer, he changed his clothes and got his tray of supplies ready, along with the picnic he'd made. He wanted to spend the evening doting on her in every way possible.

Emma waved to Elsa as she dropped her off; she was curious what Killian had planned. He'd specifically asked she not drive; Emma presumed that meant she was going home with him after, which was more than fine with her. Her bed felt a bit lonely without him to cuddle with.

Dear lord, she'd turned into a cuddler. How had _that_ happened?

Emma pushed open the doors, her curiosity piquing. She'd been very intrigued when he let her know some of the details of their date; it was on campus, for one. A very odd place for a date if she was being honest with herself. In the spirit of the choice, she'd dressed accordingly, crisp white blouse and short pleated skirt, complete with knee high socks. She'd even pulled her hair into an innocent looking ponytail. Her shirt had the top three buttons open; if he looked hard he'd catch a peek of her red lace bra (which had matching panties of course). The most of the ensemble was covered by her wool coat; she wanted to see his eyes pop out of his head when she removed it.

Might as well indulge in the fantasy at least once, right?

She knocked on the open door jam, poking her head in the room he'd designated. She didn't see Killian at first, but she did see herself. For the first time she was getting a glimpse of the students' work. Curious, she stepped into the room unbidden and turned around and around, trying to take it all in. Not all of it was good, but much of it was and she was spellbound.

“Overwhelming?” Emma jumped and turned, her hair whipping through the air. She finally spotted Killian up on a ladder, hanging another piece.

“There you are.”

He grinned at her. “My apologies for not greeting you properly, love. I thought I had a bit more time.”

“Have you been at this all day?”

“Aye. What do you think?”

She glanced at the walls, almost seeing the method to his artistic madness. “It's...wow.” She looked around, spotting the blanket, basket and pillows off to the right. “A picnic?”

“All in good time. Do me a favor and lock the door.”

Her brows shot up, but she did as he asked. Once she was sure the door was secured, she shrugged out of her coat. “And just what were you planning on doing with this _locked_ door?” she asked, turning and stalking toward the ladder.

Killian nearly dropped the hook he was holding. He barely had the sense to grip the ladder so he wouldn't fall and break his bloody neck. His Emma was sashaying toward him in a bloody classic naughty schoolgirl outfit, at least what people typically thought of as such. His height on the ladder allowed him to see directly down her blouse, the red bra matching her red heels. He was hard in a blink, all thoughts of the picnic forgotten.

Emma smirked up at him, tongue darting out to wet her lips. She looked up at him through her lashes, fingers curling around one of the rungs of the ladder. “Something wrong?” His blue eyes were wide and dilated, her choice of outfit definitely a winner.

“Bloody hell, lass.”

She shrugged. “You like?”

He swallowed. He still had to get down, something would be more difficult given how tight his pants were. “Very much. Stay there.” He climbed down as fast as he could, biting his lip at the way his pants chafed. Emma stepped back to give him space, but he hauled her to him the moment his feet were on the ground. Emma mewled into his fiery needy kiss, letting out a little gasp as he pressed her back against the ladder. “You are a terrible vixen.”

Emma grinned, her hands sliding into his back pockets and dragging him to her. “I thought you'd like it.”

He skimmed the apple of her cheek. “You're making me reconsider my plans, lass.”

“We wouldn't want that.”

Killian rocked his hips into hers, letting her feel just how much she affected him. He growled softly. “I plan on savoring you tonight, Emma,” he whispered in her ear, grinding against her. “Unless you'd rather I fuck you right here?”

She shivered, worrying her lip between her teeth. She was certain he had something lush and decadent planned. Her Killian was kind of amazing that way. She smoothed her hands over his shirt, up over his shoulders and into his hair. She gently tugged him down to her lips, kissing him deeply, twining their tongues. He pulled her flush, heart pounding against his ribs. She was love and lust and sin all wrapped up in one and he couldn't get enough of her. “Show me your plans,” she said, still holding him close.

“Hmm, I was hoping you'd say that.” As much as he needed to have her, he wanted to shower her with affection, remind her how much he loved her. He kissed her one last time then deliberately backed up, taking her hand in his. He willed himself to relax, their slow walk across the room taking the edge off his desire. They would play later.

Emma followed him, taking in the spread he had for them. A large plaid blanket was spread on the tile floor surrounded by six or seven overstuffed pillows. There was the aforementioned basket and a covered tray; she had no idea what that was about but was certain he would tell her. Twin candles burned on a little table; he drew her to stop and let her take it all in while he rushed over to dim the overhead lights a bit. It gave the entire space a romantic glow.

“Killian, this is...” She looked over at him, throat tightening with emotion. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. “Thank you.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, lips pressing into her temple. “Only the best for you, my love.”

“I didn't realize you were such a die hard romantic.”

“I thought it was rather obvious, darling.”

She turned, burying her face in his chest. “I love you.”

He kissed her hair. “I know.” He tipped her face up. “We should eat before it gets too warm. Then we'll see about this lovely treat you've brought me.”

“Treat?”

He cocked a brow at her. “Surely you didn't think we were going to let this tantalizing outfit go to waste?”

She laughed, swatting his chest. “After you.” He knelt on the floor, helping her join him. Her tiny skirt wasn't the best for this but she managed well enough. Killian got her a couple of pillows, making sure she was comfortable before getting their meal. He popped some champagne and poured them a couple of glasses. She accepted hers gratefully. “Are we toasting?”

He gave her her favorite lopsided grin. “We can. What shall we drink to?”

“Being free,” she said instantly.

“Aye, that's excellent.” They clinked and drank, being silly by wrapping their arms around each other. They both giggled, Emma giving him a tiny shove with her free hand.

“So what goodies did you make?”

“After me for my cooking again,” he pretended to grouse.

“Hey, not every girl gets a guy who cooks. I think I'm pretty lucky.”

He whipped open the basket, producing mile high sandwiches and homemade chips. Then he got another container, this one keeping something warm. “A grilled cheese for the lady,” he said, flashing her that dimpled smile.

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment before accepting the container. Sure enough, there was a warm grilled cheese inside. “You are the best.” She leaned over and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome, love.” While she munched on her favorite sandwich, he piled their plates high with his other goodies, laying hers in front of her. “Careful.”

“I got it.” She took a sip of her champagne, then finished off her grilled cheese. “What's this?”

“A little of this, little of that,” he said. “I decided to experiment.”

“It smells delicious.” She smiled at him, as he sat across from her, happily munching on his own sandwich. She took a bite, the thing practically melting in her mouth. “Hmmm, you're doing all the cooking when we get our place.”

Killian smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. He couldn't stop the well of happiness he felt whenever she mentioned them living together. “As long as you agree to be my assistant, lass.”

“Done.” She took a bite of one of the chips too. “God, this is another thing for Ruby to be jealous about.”

“Ruby?” He knew that was her co worker from the diner, but he only saw her in passing at the Halloween party.

Emma swallowed a big bite of her sandwich. “Yeah, she, uh, knows about us.” She pursed her lips. “She saw the hickey you left.”

Killian chuckled, knowing he should feel bad about marking her but also knowing he did not. “My apologies, love. I may have gotten a bit carried away. But you were particularly sexy writhing against me.”

Emma flushed. “Oops?”

“Never apologize for that, Emma. I want you just as you are. I missed you terribly.”

“Me too.” As they ate, she filled him on some of her shopping adventures. They talked about him meeting her friends in the New Year. Emma appreciated that he too wished to keep their relationship a bit more private until after their trip. She'd have plenty of time to hang out with friends, go on the requisite double date with Mary Margaret and David. She just wanted to take her exam and spend some quality with Killian and their families over the holidays. They could worry about the rest in a few weeks time.

After their meal, Emma found herself reclining against Killian's chest, his arms around her. They talked and flirted; he pointed out some of the better sketches his students had done. It was a bit odd at first, but she found herself getting lost in the melodious sound of his voice, eyes falling shut.

“You aren't falling asleep now, are you, love?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I just like listening to you.”

His laugh vibrated against her back. “Perhaps some dessert?”

“You have dessert?”

“Of a sort.” His hands dragged over her blouse then down over her hips. He teased the hem of her tiny skirt and bunched it in his hands. He caught a glimpse of her panties, groaning softly. “Temptress.”

Emma turned her head, kissing the scruffy underside of his jaw. “Do we have time here?” she asked.

“I'm the only person with a key unless there's a very enthusiastic janitor in the building,” he said, stroking the tops of her thighs in slow circles. “Should we dare?”

Emma moved, straddling his hips. “Definitely.” She cupped his cheeks and kissed him, feeling wicked and brazen. She'd wanted him earlier and it hadn't really gone away. She always wanted him. His hands rested on her ass up underneath her skirt, encouraging her to grind into his hardening cock. He had some things he planned on doing to her, but he couldn't resist her in the sexy outfit.

Emma deftly unbuttoned his shirt, peeling back the cotton. She kissed down his neck, over his toned chest and abs. She licked and laved, biting down on the juncture of his shoulder. Killian groaned, bucking up it to her. “Fucking hell.”

“You know what they say about payback.” She went back to the spot, sucking hard on his skin, leaving him with a livid mark. Killian started yanking her blouse from her skirt, trying to touch more of her soft skin. Fingers ghosted over her back, shoulders, stomach before he started fumbling with her buttons. Emma sat up and helped him, tossing the shirt away. His mouth was already on her nipple, sucking it through the lace. Emma sank her fingers into his thick hair, holding him there. “Oh fuck yes.”

“Fuck, you're already so hot for me, darling,” he murmured, kissing the swell of her breast. “I'm going to feast on you. You're my dessert.”

“Oh god.” She wasn't sure what that entailed but she wanted to find out. “Yes, whatever you want.” He just needed to keep touching her.

He unhooked her bra and slid it from her shoulders, hands cupping her breasts. He didn't want her to leave, but he needed to get to his tray of sweets. “Lay back for me, sweetheart.”

Emma swallowed, stealing one more kiss before doing his bidding. She tucked a pillow under her head and lay sprawled across the thick plaid blanket. Killian finished removing his shirt and loosened his pants, giving Emma a peek at the erection tenting his boxers. She licked her lips, squirming. He moved over to where the basket still lay, retrieving the tray. He laid it beside her, lifting the lid. He also produced one of his ties. “Emma?”

She tore her eyes from the ripe red strawberries, melting bowl of ice, honey and cream. “Yes?”

“May I tie your hands?”

She blinked. “My hands?” They'd never done that before, not that she was necessarily opposed.

“Just the wrists,” he explained. He tried to continue but she raised a finger to his lips.

“Okay.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.” She nodded again and held her hands out for him. He looped the silk tie around her wrists, making it just tight enough that she couldn't get out easily. Emma felt a frisson of desire course through her, wetness pooling between her legs. This was definitely something she would like. “Hands above your head, love.” She did, splaying herself out for him. He smiled down at her, fingers trailing down the valley of her breasts. He moved lower until he got to her skirt, unzipping it and sliding it off. He rubbed her through the soaked panties and she squirmed again, frustrated by her bonds.

“Killian,” she whined.

“We're just getting started.” He did slid her sinful red panties down her long legs, opting to leave the heels and stockings on. He stole a brief taste of her, tongue lapping briefly at her dripping hole. Emma moaned and rolled her hips, trying to get more. “Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded. He reached over and plucked one of the ice cubes from the bowl; it was freezing. He lowered the tip to her flushed skin, circling each nipple until they were painfully hard. Emma gasped and whimpered, unprepared for the chill. But she _liked_ it, liked the contrast of cold on her heated skin. Rivulets of water slid over her skin; Killian lapped them up with his talented tongue.

“Oh fuck.”

“You like this?”

She nodded. “Yes.” Her clit throbbed; Killian followed her rolling hips with his eyes. They darkened and he grinned wickedly. He retrieved another cube and slid it along her slick hot flesh. Emma screeched and moaned; Killian placed a hand on her stomach as he toyed with her. Then he brought the partially melted cube to his lips and sucked on it, tasting her tangy juices.

“Hmm.”

Emma shivered and not entirely from the ice. “Killian, please.”

“Begging already? Patience, my love.” He switched to the honey, drizzling it haphazardly over her nude form. Her breasts, her stomach, her cunt. He spread her, alternately licking and drizzling, mingling the sweet tastes on his tongue. Emma bit her lip hard, body undulating, core clenching as he teased her. He slipped a finger inside her, testing her readiness. It was unnecessary; she was dripping, walls wet and firm. Killian opted to let her writhe a bit while he got the strawberries and cream. He shook the can and sprays a healthy dollop on a large berry, popping it into his mouth. “Yum.”

Emma needed him inside her so badly it hurt, longing to push him down and just ride him until they passed out, but she was so turned on by his tease, she wanted to know what came next. She wanted to suck on _him_ like a tasty treat but she needed to be patient.

“Would you like one, lass?”

“Please.”

Killian didn't bother with the cream. Instead he coated the berry with her essence and brought it to her lips. Emma bit down, the tastes sharp on her tongue. Killian started licking off the honey, sometimes smearing it more over her skin. She was hot and sticky, body aching to be filled, walls clenching on nothing. Killian kissed her; she tasted a heady mixture of honey, strawberries and herself on his tongue. Killian started shoving his pants and boxers over his hips, his own need almost too much to bear. She was glorious like this, a wanton goddess, begging for him to fuck her.

Killian kissed his way down her stomach, splaying her thighs. She still had honey smeared over her cunt. He added some cream and inserted a strawberry just at the tip of her entrance. She clamped down on it, so hungry to be filled. He ate her out with gusto; Emma was breathless, bound hands clawing at the air as she fell over the edge twice before he stopped. He licked her clean; she was still trembling from her last high.

“Holy _shit_ ,” she panted.

“Can you take more?” he asked, rolling back on his haunches and stroking his cock. He'd never needed her so badly, but he didn't want to overwhelm her.

“God, hurry,” she breathed. “Need.”

“Fuck, I love you.” He surged forward, pulling her up and bringing her to his lap. His smooth cock rubbed her sensitive flesh and she groaned, urging him to take her. He impaled her on his cock and she looped her bound hands over his head, using the anchor as leverage to ride him. He bucked into her; Emma braced her feet on the floor. Killian held her close, their movements fluid and hot, flesh slapping together. He felt so good in her, stretching her; she moved faster, craving the thick drag of his cock.

“Yes,” she moaned, clinging to his neck. “So good. More.” Killian smacked her ass as she rode him and she yelped. But it pulled at something deep within her. “Oh god, again.”

Killian did as she bid, spanking her as she rode him. He found her clit with his free hand, stroking the aching bud and Emma screamed, plunging headlong into her third orgasm. Killian flopped her down onto the pillows and chased his own high, her legs over his shoulders. Emma hung on, cursing, walls still fluttering when she felt him pulse wetly and grunt, coming hard inside her.

Killian rolled them to the side, Emma huddling into his arms. He stroked her back as they caught their breath, the sweat cooling and making them shiver. He snatched up a piece of the blanket and wrapped it around them. “Okay there, love?”

Emma laid her head on his chest. “Yeah.” She ached in the best way. “Might a little sore tomorrow.”

“Sorry.”

She shook her head. “It's okay. Just gives us a reason to cuddle instead.”

He chuckled. “That's nice, I have to admit.”

“And maybe you could quiz me for the LSATs?”

“Of course. The exam is Tuesday, correct?”

“Yep. I think I'm ready.”

“You'll be brilliant, Emma. You always are.”

She hugged him close under the warm blanket. “Thank you for an amazing date.”

“I'm very excited to have more of these. Out in public, of course.”

“We'll have to behave ourselves,” Emma observed.

“I think we can manage for a few hours, don't you?”

“You don't want to make out in a theater?”

“Do you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe,” she said noncommittally.

“I believe I promised you a game of pool as well.”

“Sure, if you want to lose your money.”

“Are we betting?”

“Why not? Winner gets the fantasy of their choice?”

“Love, I already have that right here, right now.”

She leaned up and kissed him. “Speaking of, do you think we should pack up? Not that you're not comfy, but I like our bed more.”

“You called it our bed.”

She pressed her lips together, thinking. “I guess I did. Is that okay?”

“More than okay. What's mine is yours, lass.” He rolled her on her back and kissed her. “Let's go home.”


	21. Chapter 21

Killian glanced up at the clock. Ten minutes to nine. He put down his pencil and fished out his phone. _Nervous?_

It took Emma less than thirty seconds to reply.  _Only a little._

He frowned. He gotten up early and fixed her breakfast before her big exam. After, he dropped her off at the far end of campus where the testing was before heading to his office to wait for her. They were leaving to visit her mother the following day; it was simply more practical to only be using one car. Her trusty Bug was still at her apartment; she'd practically taken up residence in his house since their big date the previous Saturday. He tapped out a reply.  _You aced the practice exam, love. You'll be brilliant._

She sent back a childish emoticon. _I only got 170._

He snorted. The top score was 180 on the bloody thing. Only his Emma would be worried about less than perfection. _More than adequate to into any number of schools._

During one of the breaks he insisted on when he helped her study, they took a look at some of the schools Emma was considering. Dickinson in the southern part of the state. Penn in Philadelphia. Michigan. A few smaller schools in the South. But he suspected she really wanted to go to Stanford in California. The only trouble was she didn't think she could get in. But he believed she could. She was bright, driven, had excellent recommendations. He'd read her personal essays, just as she asked; he was honored to do it and it gave him a bit more insight into his love.

He believed she could accomplish anything she put her mind to.

_I believe in you, Emma._

He didn't get to see the tears that welled in her eyes at his simple truth. She blinked furiously as she hurried to reply.  _Thanks. I love you._

_I love you too, lass. Good luck._ The clock read 8:59; the test began promptly at nine. He wouldn't hear back until she was finished. Sighing, he returned to his grading sheet. He had a dozen things he needed to get finished before closing his office for the semester. He'd arranged for the department to dismantle his gallery after finals were over; he was pleased to see traffic moving through it. His boss wasn't happy about being saddled with the clean up but Killian calmly explained the visit home to London (carefully leaving Emma out of it, no sense in cluing the poor sod in at this point) and he got his way.

He finished the grading sheet for both classes and hurried it to the department secretary. She was about his age, pretty, with curly red hair and blue eyes. Rose always had a smile for him when he visited, and a standing offer to work on his car, free of charge. She had a passion for cars, with six brothers and a mechanic father, and loved to work on them in her spare time. He never took her up on it—even when his gas gauge started going haywire—suspecting that Rose had a crush on him. She was nice enough, sweet, but no woman could entice him until he met Emma.

“You're early this semester, Professor Jones,” Rose observed.

“Heading out of town tomorrow,” he informed her. “Trying to get ahead of the curve.”

“Oh! Where are you headed?”

Killian slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. “Home actually. Off to London to visit my brother and his wife.”

“All alone?”

He swallowed, scratching behind his ear. “As a matter of fact, no. I'll be taking my girlfriend with me. She's never been to London before.”

Rose's face fell. “Oh, that's...great I hope you have a nice time.”

Killian nodded, his suspicions confirmed. But it was nice to be able to admit that he  _was_ seeing someone and that he was very happy. He smiled again and bid Rose goodbye. He returned to his office and answered a few emails. He got another that made him very happy; he was having Emma's Christmas gifts delivered to Liam's townhouse and according to the tracking they had arrived. It was mid afternoon there; Killian dialed the house.

“Jones residence.”

“Hi, Molly. It's Killian. How's the baby?”

Molly chuckled. “He or she is just fine. Giving me some heartburn but nothing I can't handle.”

“Are you going to find out if it's a boy or girl?”

“I've got an appointment next week actually. The doctor says we can find out then.”

“That's great, Molly.”

“You'll be here?”

“Aye, we're leaving for Boston first thing tomorrow. Spending a couple of days with Emma's mum then we're on a plane to Heathrow.”

“You sound excited,” Molly observed.

He laughed. “I am. Emma and I no longer have to hide our relationship; it's quite a relief.”

“Where is she?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Taking her big exam. The one she needs to get into law school.”

“I imagine she'll be glad when that's over.”

“Aye, she'd been concerned about it. I know she'll do just fine.”

“Listen to you,” Molly said fondly. “You sound really happy, Killian.”

“I'm a very lucky bloke. She's amazing. I can't wait for you to meet her in person. You'll love her, Molly.”

“I always wanted a sister.”

“I haven't proposed.”

“But you want to.”

“I just want enjoy spending time with her. The rest will come when it comes.”

“Well, if you didn't call for proposal advice, why did you call?”

“Have you gotten any deliveries today?”

He heard her scurry toward the door; pregnancy hadn't slowed her down yet. The door opened and she whooped triumphantly. “There are about three boxes here, Killian. What did you get?”

“They are Emma's Christmas gifts. Liam said you could store them for me?”

“Sure. I'll put them in the _other_ guest room.”

“You're a good sister, Molly.”

“Thank me when you get here. Be safe.”

“We will. Say hello to that brother of mine. I'll call again soon.”

They said goodbye and Killian got back to work. He was in the process of straightening his desk when one of his students stopped by. He answered her questions, explaining where the student work would be stored until January. After that, they we free to pick it up.

He answered a few more emails, reviewed the memorandum from the last staff meeting he attended. Once all the paperwork was complete, he tackled the huge task of cleaning his office. The room wasn't very big, but he'd let things slide a bit this semester. Having Emma in his life had changed quite a few things. He tidied his desk (no, there were not crinkled pages from their last romp on his desk, next question); he threw away things he didn't need. If next semester wound up being his last at the university then he didn't want to take much with him. All of his essentials were back in his studio.

He was neck deep in his filing cabinet when there was a knock on the door. “Bit early for spring cleaning, mate.”

Killian whipped his head around. “There something you need, Locksley?” He hadn't forgotten that the man nearly caught he and Emma together.

Robin shrugged. “Heard through the grapevine you were planning on visiting the old country.”

“My brother and his wife are there.”

“I also heard you weren't going alone.”

“It's like you can't have a friendly conversation anymore,” Killian groused.

“Sounds like your date from a while back panned out then?”

“Aye. Still doesn't explain why it's to do with you.”

Robin stepped into the office. “Don't take this the wrong way, mate. But is your lass about yay high?” He put his large hand at roughly Emma's height. “Blonde? Very pretty.”

“Aye, what of it?”

Robin held up his hands in surrender. “I only got a very brief glimpse of her, but she looked young. Then I strolled through your exhibit and I  _swore_ the model looked familiar. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together.”

Killian felt like there was a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. Had Robin ratted him out? Was this a friendly warning that he was about to be fired? “Robin...”

The other man shook his head. “It's none of my business. Her work for you is finished, right?” Killian nodded. “Then there's nothing to worry about. I just thought you'd want to know.  _If_ by some insane chance someone else saw you together before now...your secret is safe with me.”

“You'd lie?”

Robin got out his wallet and pulled out a photo. “This is my Marion. She was barely nineteen when I met her. That was five years ago.” Which made Marion only a year or so older than Emma. Robin was a little older than Killian.

“Was she your student?”

“No, thank god. Poor love can't draw worth a damn. She's an excellent cook though. And a damn fine woman. She's a social worker.” Robin smiled fondly. “The point is...the heart wants what it wants. Did we stretch some rules to the breaking point? Aye. But we're happy and that's all that matters to me.”

Killian nodded, thankful Robin understood where he was coming from. “Agreed.”

“We should talk again when you get back. Perhaps spend some time together? The four of us? What's your lass's name?”

“Emma.”

“Emma then. What do you say? We treat them to a night on the town...such as it is.”

“I'll talk to Emma and get back to you, Locksley.”

Robin clapped Killian on the shoulder, chuckling. “That is very wise, Jones. Very wise.” Robin left, leaving Killian a bit stunned. So someone  _did_ know just how badly he'd broken the rules to be with his Emma, but he wasn't going to get punished for it. He had planned on spending the evening in with Emma before their trip but surely a little date couldn't hurt. He grinned, swept up in his good fortune. After he finished cleaning, he checked the screening times at the local theater; Emma had expressed a wish for such a date. If they went early enough, they could still get a solid night's sleep before their day of traveling.

Killian picked Emma up shortly after noon; she looked tired but pleased. He leaned over to kiss her as soon as she sat. “How was it?”

“I think I did okay. There was a question about buses that was a little confusing but I think I got it.”

“Think you could muster the energy for a date?” he asked, pulling into traffic.

“A date?”

“We can do those now,” he pointed out. “Just a short one. After we collect your things. Perhaps a late-ish lunch and a movie?”

Emma beamed. “I think that's a great idea.” She reached over and laced their fingers together as he drove to her apartment. He and Elsa chatted a bit while Emma finished her packing, everyone hauling her suitcases down to his car. They were going to be gone for nearly a month and her suitcases reflected it. He gave the ladies some privacy to say farewell, locking the last of her things in his trunk. Emma joined him a few minutes later, excited for their date. “What movie are we seeing?”

“They're showing one of your superhero movies at two thirty, _Guardians of the Galaxy_ , I think?” He was still learning all the ins and outs of that world.

“I love that one! It's hilarious, you'll see.”

They actually ate at Granny's; Emma's boss gave them a discount and stared long and hard at Killian, as if trying to pierce him with her eyes. The old woman cared about Emma, that much was obvious. But she wished Emma a good trip and gave them free sundaes. He'd chosen the diner to give Emma a chance to see some of her friends before they left and the theater was right down the street. They walked there hand in hand, chatting casually. Killian knew he had to tell her about Robin but it could wait until they got home.

In the dim theater, Emma snuggled up next to him, armrest stowed away. “This is nice.”

He tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Aye. It's been a long time coming.”

“It's a good thing we're traveling; it'll distract me from waiting for the results.”

Killian chuckled. “I will do everything in my power to keep you occupied, love.”

Emma kissed his scruffy cheek in thanks and turned back to the screen. How many times had she wondered what it would be like to go out on a date like a normal couple? And now they were. There were no real trailers before the film; the State Theater was more of an art house theater, hosting concerts and little operas as much as movies. She laid her head on his shoulder and settled in to watch.

Killian occasionally had to whisper a question to her to fully grasp what was happening but he enjoyed the film well enough. He thought the talking raccoon was particularly clever; the animation was brilliant.

When they got to the bit with Peter, Gamora and pelvic sorcery, Killian guffawed out loud. Emma did too. She laughed so hard she nearly fell off her seat. When she readjusted herself, she slid her arm around his waist, fingers up under his shirt.

“Emma?” Killian whispered. The theater was nearly empty; most students were either studying or taking finals.

“What?”

“Are you comfortable?”

“I am now. Why?”

“No reason.” But he felt the air around them shift. They still watched, still laughed, but Emma's hand did not stay still. Killian decided turnabout was fair play. He moved them so his arm fell down to her hip where he drew circles under her sweater. Emma wet her lips, swinging her legs up into his lap. She looked up at him, face lit up by the screen, the shadows making him even more handsome. He stayed silent as she coaxed his mouth down to hers, kissing him slowly. Killian bit back a groan, arms tightening around her. Good thing they were near the very, very back. “Emma.”

She smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Are we making out in a dark theater?”

“Hell yes,” he growled softly. He fused his mouth to hers, the movie completely forgotten. He hauled her into his lap, almost devouring her lips. Emma boldly straddled his hips, fingers diving into his hair. They were coming to a particularly loud part of the movie, lots of explosions and screams; it largely muffled their groping and grinding and soft moans. His hands were under her sweater now, stroking her back, palming her breasts. They hadn't had sex since Saturday night, Killian giving her more than enough time to recover from the intense experience while helping her study. She loved him for it, but she needed him.

“Don't stop,” she mumbled into his neck. She arched her back, pushing her lace clad breasts into his hands. He rewarded her by flicking her nipples through the fabric. She had to bite on his earlobe to keep from moaning, liquid fire rushing to her core.

“Bloody hell, love,” he whispered, completely turned on by her wanton gyrating in his lap. In a public theater. His cock strained against his zipper, aching to be touched. But if they went any further, they would surely be caught.

Emma covered his mouth with hers again, tongue exploring his mouth. He tasted like the chocolate sundae Granny had given them, sweet and sinful. She rolled her hips against his, hindered by the shape of the seat. She couldn't get enough leverage and she hissed in frustration. Quickly, she yanked on the fly of her pants, jerking the zipper down and sliding her own hand in to touch herself. Killian bucked up, groaning in her ear when he realized what she was doing.

“Yes,” Emma moaned softly, fingers sliding easily through her sodden flesh. “Fuck, I'm so wet.”

Killian grunted, his own frustration mounting. “Don't say things like that,” he bit out. “Or I'm going to take you on this floor, propriety be damned.”

Emma mewled, the picture already forming in her head. But they couldn't get arrested right before their trip. “Need to come. Please. Then...oh god, home. We'll go home.”

She was such a vision, gyrating in his lap, touching herself, he wanted to see her finish. “Make yourself come, darling,” he hissed harshly in her ear. “Fuck that sweet cunt for me.”

Emma nodded furiously, two fingers penetrating her. Killian continued to tease and torment her nipples, knowing the added stimulation would get her there faster. Emma rubbed her clit with her thumb, frantically riding her fingers until she was coming hard, face buried in his shoulder, muffling her cries. Killian held her steady, hands falling to her waist while she caught her breath. “God, I love you, Emma.”

She kissed the side of his neck. “I know. Maybe we should get out of here?”

“Might be a few minutes, love.”

Emma colored, easing off his lap. “Sorry.”

He pulled her in and kissed her hair. “You were bloody magnificent.”

“I'll make it up to you.”

“Going home with you is more than enough.”

It was just getting to the climax of the film but the moment Killian could walk comfortably, they left. She had it on Blu Ray anyway; they could watch it during a proper marathon. It would be fun. And they could pause it if they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

They were mostly quiet on the way home, holding hands again. She let them in the house with her key; they went about methodically shedding their coats, scarves and shoes. The recent snow was gone now; Emma kind of missed it. She blew on her fingers to warm them until Killian took her hand and led her upstairs. It was around four in the afternoon, but most of the house was dark. She knew the layout by heart now, so she followed without hesitation. As soon as the bedroom door closed, Killian was kissing her, pulling her flush against him. Emma stood up on her toes, arms around his neck, kissing him back fiercely.

“Now I can do whatever I want to you,” Killian muttered, lips moving to her pulse and sucking.

Emma clutched at his shoulders. “You want my mother to see my hickeys?” she gasped, head falling back.

“Wear a scarf,” he ordered. “Today, you're mine.”

Emma dragged his mouth back to hers, nipping sharply at his lips. When they broke away she peeled off her sweater, tossing it to the floor and dashing for the bed. “You'll have to catch me first!”

Killian growled and sprinted across the room. He tackled her to the bed, both of them laughing happily. He got her on her back, face buried in her cleavage just breathing her in. She squirmed as his lips brushed her skin, teeth dragged over the swells of her breasts. She arched and mewled; he had her wrists in one of his large hands, keeping her pinned as he settled in he cradle of her thighs. “What was that about catching you, love?”

Emma scowled but in moments was biting her lip as he sucked one erect nipple into his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

“We've got hours and hours,” he pointed, tongue flicking over the hard flesh. “I could just keep you on the brink for a very long time, not letting you fall.” He switched his attentions. “Or would you rather keep coming, dragging as much pleasure from this delectable body as possible.”

“No! Yes! Ohhh,” Emma whined, trying to push her hips up. “I want everything.”

He smiled, gently kissing the beauty mark on her breast. “We've the whole rest of our lives, sweetheart.” He crawled up further, rolling them so she was splayed across his chest. They kissed languidly, Killian deftly unhooking her bra while Emma unbuttoned his shirt. She rubbed her nipples over his course chest hair, moaning in pleasure, another pulse of lust shooting to her core. Killian skimmed his hands along the curve of her spine, dipping under the waistband of her jeans and gripping her ass.

“You are a wanton thing today, lass,” he said, squeezing the soft globes. “I love it.”

“I've been kinda stressed out lately,” she pointed out, a knowing smirk on her face. “Do you want to help me work that out?”

He sat up roughly, hands still in her pants, forcing his loose shirt to bunch at the elbows. “It would be my pleasure.”

Emma cupped his face, slanting her mouth over his. “You're wearing too many clothes.”

“Perhaps you should do something about that,” he shot back.

She groaned, torn between stripping him and continuing to let him touch her. In the end, she pulled his hands away so she could divest him of his shirt. She licked over his collar, along the line of his throat; it was one of her favorite parts of him. She found the spot on his neck that made him moan, sucking greedily. If he marked her, then she wanted to be sure she wasn't the only one wearing a high collar in the morning. Killian palmed her breasts, gently massaging as she toyed with his body. His cock throbbed painfully, no relief in sight, but he enjoyed her pleasure far more than his own.

Emma pushed him down on his back again, combing her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face. Then she bent low over him, hands and lips on his warm skin, stroking and feasting on him, steadily moving lower. He groaned, wetting his lips, muscles trembling under her touch. He was thoroughly lost to her; no one else had the power to make him feel like this. She found a particularly sensitive spot below his ribs, teasing it with lips and tongue.

“I want to taste you,” Emma murmured, following the trail of hair that disappeared into his pants. Her Killian was hairy and she _liked_ it. It was something so _male_ about him; it tugged at her most primal urges, fueling her need for him. She slowly opened his fly, rubbing her cheek over his cotton clad erection. He jerked, cursing, trying to get more friction. He'd been denied release earlier and the desperation was back tenfold. Still, Emma took her time, drawing the denim down his legs, rolling off his socks. She smiled wickedly as she yanked on the waistband of his boxers before snapping them back against his stomach.

“Bloody minx,” Killian swore, getting up on his elbows.

“What?” she asked innocently. It wasn't often she got to just play with him; so often Killian dedicated himself to her pleasure. She skimmed her hand over the bulge, rubbing him through the material. “Hmm, this feels uncomfortable.”

Killian moaned loudly, thankful for any kind of friction, even if he were slowly going mad. “Fucking hell, lass.”

She smirked again, finally pulling the final barrier away. The boxers joined the rest of their clothes somewhere on the floor as she lowered her head to lick him from root to tip. She secured some hair behind her ear as she continued to tease him with her mouth, kissing, nibbling, licking. She slurped up the precum from his leaking slit, tongue swirling around the swollen head. Killian fisted the sheet, unintelligible sounds tumbling from his lips. She had such a talented mouth, warm and wet; his cock hardened further, hoping she'd take him in.

“Emma...fuck...need...” He raised his head, eyes pleading. “Suck me...please.”

Emma bit her lip; she did love to make him beg. It hadn't been her intention but having him at her mercy like this made her wet. She took his considerable length into her hand, stroking, before wrapping her lips around him. Killian gritted his teeth, his control on a fraying tether. Her head bobbed shallowly, sucking on the head, taking in more slowly. Killian tried not to buck into her mouth but it was difficult. He flopped back on the bed, one hand in her hair, watching as she took more and more of him.

“God, so good...such a wicked mouth, love...oh fuck...don't stop...so fucking hot when you suck me...” He closed his eyes, awash in the sensations, the need that built higher and higher. His fingers tightened in her hair, hips rising off the bed, unable to keep still any longer. Emma moved with him, relaxing her throat until he brushed the back of it. She swallowed around him; he nearly came on the spot. He managed to yank her away just in time, breathing hard. “Shit.”

Emma smiled and kissed his tattoo; she knew he'd been close. But she needed him inside her, filling her when they fell over the edge. She didn't stop touching him, light teasing touches as he caught his breath. She coupled that with getting her own pants off; she was certain her panties were soaked. It was impossible not to _want_ when he made those sounds.

Nude, she crawled up his body, rubbing herself against him, until they were face to face once more. Killian kissed her passionately, rolling them over. “We're not leaving this bed,” he announced, returning to the faint mark on her neck. He sucked harder as Emma moaned; Jesus, he'd been holding back before. There was a possessive note in everything he did, now that they truly belonged only to each other.

“Fuck...Killian,” she gasped, gripping his biceps. “Oh god.”

He returned to her nipples, giving each a good suck before tugging her to the edge of the bed. He stood, rough hands stroking her, easing her knees apart. “Did you enjoy being a naughty girl in the theater, lass?” he asked, a single digit stroking her slick slit.

Emma moaned. “Y-y-yes,” she breathed, trying to grind into his hand.

“But it wasn't what you need, was it?”

Emma raised herself up on her elbows. “No.”

“And what do you need?”

Her eyes jumped down to his very hard cock then back up to his eyes. “I need your cock inside me,” she said in a low voice. “I need you to fuck me.”

Killian groaned, loving the dirty words on her lips. He wet his own lips, taking himself in hand. Their gazes remained locked as he pushed into her willing body, her cunt slick and hot and tight. They both groaned when he was fully seated, all the way to the hilt. The feeling of being one with her never got old; it was a privilege to be with her.

He bent down, kissing her as he slowly started to thrust. Emma balanced on one arm, cupping his head, their kiss punctuated by soft groans and mewls as he fucked her. Killian braced his hands on either side of her hips, giving him more leverage, taking her deeper.

“Fuck, that's perfect,” Emma gasped, kissing him hungrily. “You feel so good.” He nodded, trying to keep his focus and make this last as long as possible. The pace increased, Emma rolling her hips, switching her balance and using her free hand to touch herself. She circled her clit, shivering hard. “It's okay...don't hold back.” She urged him on with a kiss, squeezing her muscles around his thick cock.

“Bloody fuck.” He drove into her with a grunt, his orgasm tingling at the base of his spine. Emma rubbed and pinched, her own high very close. Killian roared and took her faster, skin slapping together. He came with a shout, pulsing inside her wet heat. Emma followed, stars popping across her vision, walls milking him dry. She collapsed onto the bed, covered in sweat but sated for the moment.

Killian held his weight on his forearms, covering her with his body. He kissed her sweat slicked skin as he panted, murmured nonsense. Emma stroked his back, content to keep him close. They stayed that way until he softened and slipped out; Killian kissed her cheek before hurrying to the bathroom. Returning with a wet cloth, he cleaned them up and stretched Emma out on her side of the bed. He didn't bother with clothes when he came back, merely fishing his blue blanket from the trunk. He covered them both with it and Emma fit herself against his side, head on his chest. She felt amazing, warm and loved, a far cry from her nerves of the morning.

“Thank you,” she whispered, fingers skimming over his chest.

“For what, darling?”

“Just being you. Do I need another reason?”

He chuckled. “Not especially.” He kissed her hair. “How do you feel?”

“Pretty great actually.”

“So we relieved your stress?”

She laughed. “That was just an excuse to get you naked,” she admitted.

“You don't need an excuse for that, love.”

Emma inched closer, enjoying the feel of their bare skin. “We do end up this way a lot.”

“Because you are irresistible, my love.”

“We'll have to be good at my mom's.” To be honest, she didn't know how the sleeping arrangements would be. When she'd offered to stay in a hotel, Ingrid wouldn't hear of it. She insisted there was plenty of room for a few days visit.

Killian mock groaned. “As if this trip wasn't nerve wracking enough.”

Emma smacked his chest. “Hey.”

“Only teasing, Emma. Although I am a bit nervous.”

“Mom's going to love you.” She raised her head. “Thanks for squeezing this stop in. It means a lot to me.”

He smiled up at her. “She's your family. Of course I want to meet her. Again,” he said with a laugh. “I only hope she doesn't lecture me for sullying your virtue.”

“You missed the train on that, Professor,” she said, smirking down at him. She leaned in next to his ear. “But you are the best. Hands down.”

Killian growled, bringing her lips to his, kissing her. Emma braced her hand on his chest as the kiss deepened, leading to another long makeout session. Kissing him was addicting. He eased her onto her back, slowly breaking the kiss and resting his head in his hand. “God, you're beautiful.” She truly was. Her green eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, lips kiss swollen, golden hair a mess. He loved her so much; it felt like a sweet ache in his chest.

Emma drew his free hand over his stomach, lacing their fingers. “You're an artist, you have to say that.”

He shook his head. “I've always thought so. Inside and out, sweetheart. Look what you did today. You worked your stunning little arse off and aced that exam. We'll be able to go wherever you want. You've got a drive, a passion for life, Emma. I'm so inspired by you.”

She swallowed, a painful lump in her throat. She couldn't speak so she leaned up and kissed him briefly instead, hoping that conveyed what her words couldn't. They lay there quietly for a long time, just enjoying each other's company in the darkening room.

Finally, Killian moved to turn on the bedside lamp. “Are you hungry, love?”

Emma nodded. “A little. Can we order in?”

“Anything you wish.” They settled on Chinese and he called in their order. When he was finished, he came back. “Emma, there is one thing that happened today that I should tell you.”

She was instantly on the alert. “What happened?”

“As I was cleaning my office, I got an unexpected visitor.”

“Who?”

“Robin Locksley. Remember our date? The one at the restaurant?”

“He's the guy who saw you!”

“Aye.” He paused. “He, uh, recognized you. When he looked at the gallery show. He only caught a brief glimpse at the restaurant, but it was enough apparently.”

“Oh god.” This was what they had been afraid of. “So what did he want?” Surely, it would be too cruel for Killian to get into trouble _now._

“He merely wanted to talk. And to offer to keep our secret should it ever come up.”

“Why would he do that?”

“It seems he met his wife in similar circumstances, and hence is sympathetic to our plight.”

Emma flopped back on the pillow. “Wow. We dodged a bullet, huh?”

“It appears so.” He was relieved, of course. But he'd sooner have gotten fired than lose Emma. Nothing in his life meant anything without her.

“Are you okay?”

He gathered her into his arms. “I am perfectly well. I've got you with me.”

Emma squeezed, knowing exactly what he meant. “Good.”

“However, Robin did express a wish for us to perhaps go out together some time? His wife Marion isn't much older than you, love.”

“I thought you weren't exactly friends?”

“Not as such. But I've been thinking it may be time to change that. I had been content in my solitary life. But now there's all sorts of possibilities.”

Emma smiled. She was so proud of him. She wanted him to have real friends; he was such an amazing person. “Well, if we go out with them, then we have to do the double date thing with David and Mary Margaret too. You game?”

“I am content to go anywhere with you, Emma.”

“That's settled. We'll figure out the logistics when we get back. I'm excited for this trip.”

“You've got everything? Clothes, passport, any other necessary baubles?”

“Baubles?” she asked with a laugh.

“You know, female odds and ends.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wait until we're living together, buddy. I'll give you baubles.”

He flashed her her favorite dimpled smile. “Looking forward to it. I'd happily move your things in now, darling.”

In truth, Emma would probably spent most of her time with him until they really did live together, but she was stubborn. And Elsa needed her too. “One step at a time.”

“As you wish.” To make up for the tiny flash of disappointment in his eyes, she kissed him, engaging in that enjoyable activity until their food arrived.

* * *

Early the following morning, Killian and Emma loaded their bags into the waiting cab. It would cost too much to board his car at the tiny airport for nearly a month, so he called them a cab. Emma smiled nervously as they left, fitting his hand in hers. She was nervous but excited. Her mom was going to meet Killian, her honest to goodness boyfriend. Her too good to be true boyfriend. Then, after a few days in Boston, they were flying to London for her to meet _his_ family. Emma unofficially decided it was the beginning of their future together. She wouldn't introduce Ingrid to someone she didn't feel would last. And Emma couldn't imagine a life without Killian.

The cab drive was followed by more tedious waiting at the airport, getting bags checked and tickets sorted out. They were taking a short flight to Baltimore then hopping another plane to Boston. Ingrid promised to pick them up; Emma only hoped all their luggage fit in her mom's car. She'd never traveled anywhere other than home for this long of a time; when she ran away as a young girl, she only had what she could carry. Ingrid had given her stability, but those old instincts occasionally kicked in. She kept looking over her shoulder, watching for shady people.

“Something wrong, love?”

Emma settled back in her seat. “Sorry, habit. I'm fine.”

He put down his phone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It's not a happy story.”

“I've got nowhere to be.”

Emma smiled, putting down her book. She took his hand. This was one of her favorite things about Killian. He made her feel safe to open up about her past. He didn't think her defective or broken. Quietly, she explained some more of her unhappy childhood, the awful group homes, the many times she ran away, how she learned to survive on her own. Killian let go of her hand, wrapping his arm around her. He was stymied by the hard airport chairs but he comforted her as best he could. Her past tore at his heart, but he marveled at her strength. They held each other long after her words were spent, until it was time to board their flight.

The flight to Baltimore was uneventful. They spent most of the short flight reading, Emma with her earbuds in her ears. Killian had to tap her nose when it was time to land. She rolled her eyes at him. They had over an hour layover in the larger airport, hitting up the food court on their way to their terminal. Emma was surprised at how easily they traveled together. No one looked at them oddly; they were like any other normal couple.

She had to admit it was a relief. If they could enjoy this trip—their true first time out of the safety of Killian's home—then the future looked very bright.

“One more leg to go,” Killian muttered, stretching out in the plastic seat. He hated traveling. Well, hate was a strong word. He just really disliked having his tall frame cramped into hard seats and low ceilings. Emma made it bearable.

“We've got a longer flight in a couple of days,” Emma reminded him.

“Don't I know it.”

“I thought you didn't mind flying.”

“I don't; it's certainly much faster than _swimming_ home.”

Emma laughed. She curled up in her seat. “So tell me about London.”

He frowned. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, I know the basic stuff. On the River Thames, capital of the country, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, that kind of thing. But what's it like?”

Killian pursed his lips, thinking. After being quiet for some time, he just started talking, describing the neighborhood he and Liam grew up in. The schools they went to. Places they visited. He told her how alive the city was, walking down streets bent a thousand different ways, the green spaces, the royal palaces. Emma listened, transfixed by his voice. She swore his accent got a bit more pronounced as he spoke. She was annoyed when he had to stop, but it was time to board their plane.

“I'll show you when we get there, darling,” he assured her. “We'll have the best time exploring.”

“And spending time with your family.”

“I just hope I don't have to seal my love away from them!” Killian laughed, joining the cue to get on the plane. As before, they had adjoining seats and this time Emma shared her earbuds. His Emma had eclectic taste and she gave him a sampling as during the hour and a half flight. When they landed, however, he couldn't help but feel a knot in his stomach. What if Ingrid decided that he wasn't right for her daughter? That he was too old, too mature for someone Emma's age? Her life had made Emma wiser than her years but she was still barely twenty three. He'd never really had to deal with a mother like this before and it concerned him.

Emma noticed Killian's unease and squeezed his hand. “Hey, you with me?”

He nodded. “Aye. I'm fine.”

“Even if she _didn't_ like you—which she totally will—it wouldn't change anything. I love you, Killian.”

He smiled, taking comfort in _her_ smile. “And I you. More than I can say.” He kissed her brow. “Come. Let's find our bags.”

It took them nearly forty five minutes to locate all of their bags on the conveyor belt at the baggage claim. Killian commandeered one of the trolleys to haul their things to Ingrid's car. Emma was on the phone to her mother, letting her know they landed safely and that she could bring the car anytime. They joined the crush of people trying to exit the airport, some getting in cabs, others waiting for loved ones to pick them up. Emma scanned the oncoming cars for her mother's, waving frantically when she saw the old car.

Ingrid maneuvered through the traffic and pulled to a stop where Emma waved, up on her toes. Ingrid beamed, thrilled to have her home again. She took note of the tall good looking man at Emma's side; he looked nervous. Ingrid waved and got out, popping the trunk.

“Emma!”

Emma got caught in her mom's bear hug. “Hi, Mom.”

“I missed you.”

“Me too.” She let go, arm still wrapped around Ingrid's. “Mom, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Killian Jones. Killian, this is my mom.”

Killian smiled, holding out his hand. “It's lovely to see you again, Ingrid.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes and shocked him by hugging him as well. “I don't bite, so calm down,” she whispered to him. He laughed. “I'd love for us to chit chat but I think we should get your things loaded before all these people lose patience!”

It was a tight fit but they managed to get all of the luggage into the car. Killian had to squeeze into the backseat while Emma sat up front with Ingrid. “How about we drop your things off at the house and go out for dinner?” Ingrid asked. “My treat.”

“That's not...” Killian began.

“No buts,” Ingrid said firmly. “I've only you for a few days; let me do this for you. It's no trouble. Even in the winter people love ice cream!”

Emma shared a look with Killian, winking at him. And he wondered just what he'd gotten himself into.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Emma rolled onto her side, trying to find a comfortable position. She'd slept in this bed for years. She'd been traveling all day; she was exhausted. Her body, however, refused to cooperate.

Killian was hopefully having better luck in the fold out couch. The first truly awkward moment of their visit occurred at bedtime with Ingrid not so subtly indicating that Emma would be sleeping in her room. Killian had accepted the unspoken edict with good grace, chastely kissing Emma good night before helping Ingrid with the couch. Emma went to bed reluctantly, mildly annoyed at her mom. Emma was an adult; she could spend the night with her boyfriend in the same bed. What did Ingrid think they were doing, playing checkers?

Really though, Emma just missed him. She missed the solid feel of him behind her, snuggling close. She never expected to enjoy sharing her bed with someone so much, but Killian was the best bedmate she could hope for. And he was only about fifty feet away, sleeping in a strangle place.

After tossing for another half hour, Emma made a trip to the bathroom. Then she padded down the stairs in her fuzzy slippers. She knew the house by heart so she had no trouble finding the couch in the living room. It was almost pitch black in the room; only the digital clock on her mom's old VCR provided any light. She reached out, feeling for the edge of the folded out mattress. A floorboard creaked under her weight and Killian stirred.

“Wha's goin' on?” he mumbled sleepily.

_Rats_ , Emma thought. He'd been asleep. “It's me,” she whispered. “Sorry. I'll go.”

But Killian reached out blindly, finding her hand. “What's the matter, love?”

“I couldn't sleep.”

Killian sat up, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. He tapped the space beside him. “Have a seat, lass.”

Emma smiled gratefully, sitting close to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“I missed you too,” he replied, kissing her hair.

“I didn't think she'd make you sleep on the couch. Sorry.”

“She's your mum. Mums are like that.”

“Well, it's annoying. I'm a grown up, you'd think she'd trust me.”

“You're always going to her little girl, love. You can't expect her to change overnight.”

Emma sighed. “I know. Do you think I could stay here? Just for a little while. I'll get up before she wakes up.”

“Of course you can, love.” He couldn't deny her anything, especially when he was greedy and selfish when it came to having her in his bed. Or couch, as the case may be. Emma kicked off her slippers; she didn't need them when she could tuck her feet between Killian's legs. They settled under the heavy blankets Ingrid left for him, Killian spooning her from behind. Emma sighed happily.

“This is better.”

He chuckled. “I'm happy to hear it.” It didn't take long for her breathing to even out; he loved that she trusted him so much. Her steady breathing lulled him to sleep as well, a deep dreamless sleep after all their traveling.

Emma woke up a little after seven, according to the VCR clock. The sun was just starting to peek through; her mom would be up soon. Ingrid mentioned showing Killian some of the city, Freedom Trail, the Harvard art museum. Killian would love the museum, so Emma hadn't argued. But all those activities meant an early start. So Emma rolled over and brushed a kiss to Killian's temple before edging out of bed as carefully as she could. She padded back upstairs and headed straight for the bathroom. She showered, standing under the hot spray for a long time. It uncoiled her stiff muscles; hours of sitting in plastic chairs and cramped planes had done her no favors. It wasn't one of Killian's amazing massages but it would have to do.

She got out and wrapped herself in a towel, going through her morning routine. Once her teeth were brushed and hair dry, she hurried back to her room to get dressed. Her mom's bedroom door was open and she heard sounds coming from the kitchen. Some jeans, socks, camisole, thick sweater (with a high collar) later, Emma pulled her hair up into a ponytail and headed back down to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Emma,” Ingrid said. She had her apron over her clothes, a similar sweater jeans combo to Emma's.

“Hey Mom.” She sniffed. “Coffee?”

“In the pot. I know you, Emma.” Ingrid smiled indulgently and returned to her eggs. “Does Killian like coffee? I can make some tea if he'd rather have that.”

“Stereotype much?”

“What? He's English, isn't he?”

“He drinks coffee, Mom.”

“Actually I wouldn't mind a spot of tea,” Killian said dryly, entering the kitchen.

Emma rolled her eyes at him, holding back a smile. “Sure, undermine my knowledge of my boyfriend right off the bat.” She couldn't help but notice how freaking  _cute_ he was with bed head, a t-shirt and plaid sleep pants.

He smiled at her. “I  _am_ Brit who's spent a fair amount of time in the States, love. I learned to adapt.”

“You're incorrigible. You make great coffee.”

He stepped closer, kissing her brow. “Why thank you, Emma.” He turned to Ingrid. “If you would allow the use of your bathroom, Ingrid...”

“Sure, upstairs to the right. Breakfast will be ready soon!”

Emma sipped at her coffee as she watched him leave. She really liked those pants. Too bad she'd have to wait until they got to London to get him out of them.

“Emma, do you want scrambled or sunny side up?” Ingrid asked. When Emma didn't answer, she turned to see her daughter in a happy daze. “Emma? Earth to Emma!”

She started. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked how you wanted your eggs.”

“Oh. Sunny side up, please.”

“Did you sleep well, honey?”

Emma sat at the kitchen table; she knew better than to offer to help. “Yeah. Good to be home.”

“What should we do first? The museum?”

Emma shrugged. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“You don't seem very enthusiastic.”

“No, I am. Killian will enjoy it. Wait til you see him, Mom. He's got such a good eye for art. It's fascinating.”

Ingrid thought of commenting on her daughter's new appreciation for art, but thought better of it. She was just happy to see Emma happy. “Well, I'm sure it'll be fun then!”

Killian returned to the kitchen just as breakfast was being served. He accepted the tea Ingrid made with a wink to Emma. She bit her lip and nudged his leg under the table. He smirked at her before speaking to Ingrid, turning on the charm. Emma had seen him do this the night before at dinner and it amused her to no end. She went with the flow, more observer than participant. This was the time for her mom to get to know her boyfriend, the man who was a huge part of her life and would be going forward. She wanted them to get along.

An hour later, Ingrid headed out to warm up the car, leaving them alone for a few precious minutes. Emma started to pull on her coat but yelped as Killian pushed her against the wall and kissed her. But it wasn't unwelcome at all, as she grabbed at his shirt and mauled his mouth with hers. They broke with a gasp, foreheads pressed together.

“Now we can go,” Killian breathed, brushing her lips again.

Emma didn't let him go, stealing a few more kisses. “ _Now_ we can go.”

“We're not leaving.”

Emma chuckled. “I know. It's just weird, you know?”

He nodded. “Aye. Restraint isn't our strong suit.”

“We'll figure it out.” She smiled, gave him one last kiss, then shrugged on her coat. “Come on, before she suspects.”

They drove over to Cambridge, Ingrid taking great pleasure in playing tour guide. Killian had never been to Boston so he got to take it in with fresh eyes. It reminded him vaguely of London with the mixture of new and old and he told Ingrid so.

She beamed over her shoulder. “I've lived in quite a few places, but Boston's my favorite,” she said. “There was no question about moving here when I adopted Emma.”

“You didn't live here at the time?” Killian asked curiously.

“I was fostering a few kids in Minnesota when Emma came to me,” Ingrid said. “But I immediately knew she would be family.”

Emma hadn't told him everything about her life before Ingrid. He knew the worst parts. But getting from where she'd been born to Minnesota was quite the feat for someone so young and alone. His heart hurt that she went through that, but it did speak to her strength of character. Killian would have preferred to have the moment alone but instead he said, “I believe I know exactly how that feels.”

Emma glanced at him over her shoulder, her cheeks coloring. He was just so damn sincere; it would come off as horribly fake if anyone else tried it. She always believed Killian however. He was honest with everything he did and she adored that about him. Fortunately, she was saved from any spectacles by their arrival at the museum. Or museums. The Harvard Art Museums were actually three in one: the Fogg Museum, the Busch-Reisinger Museum and the Arthur M. Sackler Museum.

Ingrid and Emma were Massachusetts residents so they got into the museum for free. They waited patiently for Killian to join them; he slipped his hand into Emma's as they began their tour. Emma had been once during a school trip but she couldn't say she'd been paying very much attention. Killian, of course, was all excitement and that made the winding tour more than tolerable.

They decided to start at the bottom and work their way up; the first floor had a cafe where they could have lunch before leaving. The first floor had mostly modern and contemporary art along with Chinese and Buddhist art. Sculptures, paintings, carvings, drawings, Emma had never appreciated how eclectic the collection was.

“Emma, didn't Elsa make something like this?” Ingrid asked. They were looking at an abstract sculpture; the tag said it was an octopus but Emma didn't really see it.

“Uh, maybe? Elsa doesn't do much abstract art, Mom.”

“Oh, right. I do love that vase she made for me.” Ingrid turned to Killian. “The outside is shaped like dozens of icicles, I've no idea how she does it.”

“Aye, Elsa is very talented,” Killian agreed. “She had some pieces in the student gallery earlier this semester.”

“She did? Oh that's wonderful! Her parents were unsure about her taking on art as a career, so I'm glad to hear it.”

They moved on to another room, Killian and Emma holding hands. “Killian's really talented too, Mom.” She pulled out her phone and showed Ingrid a picture of the ocean painting he'd gifted her for her birthday.

“That is very good,” Ingrid agreed. “But I thought your specialty was drawing?”

Killian flushed. “It is, but I dabble in a few other things. I showed Emma how to make a vase for example.”

It was Emma's turn to flush, recalling the erotic experience with the pottery wheel. “It was just silly,” she protested. “It doesn't even look like a vase!”

“Of course it does,” he countered. “You did a very good job on it, love.”

“I think it's important to expand your horizons, Emma,” Ingrid said. “You're so serious all the time, sweetheart.”

Emma absolutely could _not_ tell her mother about their erotic art adventures. Killian did encourage her to loosen up and have some fun, fun of a very dirty variety, which she thoroughly enjoyed. But she couldn't say that to her mother. It was just too embarrassing. As they moved on to some European art, she poked Killian in the ribs. He winced.

“What was that for?” he hissed quietly. They slowed down to let Ingrid draw ahead.

“Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my mother?”

“Of course not. I didn't mention a thing about our self portrait, for example. You simply have a dirty mind, darling.”

“I do not!”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, hand momentarily dropping to her ass and giving it a squeeze. “You do and I love it. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I'm not ashamed.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“Killian, she already won't let us sleep in the same bed!”

“Which we've already circumvented. Rather chastely, I might add.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't. You love me.”

She pinched his side lightly. “Fine, can we just finish the tour without anymore oblique references to our sex life?”

“As you wish.”

Killian was as good as his word. Harvard had a fine collection and he enjoyed examining it. He answered Ingrid's questions as honestly as he could; as the tour went on he started to get the impression she was grilling him. In a very upbeat way, but a grilling all the same. He suspected he knew what that was about. His wasn't exactly a lucrative career and Ingrid didn't even know he was planning on cutting back on his teaching. If he and Emma were to make a life together, Ingrid wanted to ensure Emma would be well taken care of. Emma was a very independent person; Killian admired that about her. If they had clashes, he thought that's where they would be.

They sat down to a pleasant lunch in the museum cafe; Emma's feet were already a bit sore from all that walking. And her mother wanted to do the Freedom Trail too. Fantastic.

“So I hear your brother and his wife are expecting?” Ingrid asked Killian.

“Aye, Molly's nearly four months along now. She and Liam are very excited.”

“Babies are a handful.”

“I imagine they are.”

The older woman munched thoughtfully on her salad. “And what about you? Have you thought about children?”

“Mom!” Emma hissed. “Is this really the place?”

“It's okay, Emma,” Killian said, squeezing her hand. “Ingrid, right now, I am content to be an uncle to my niece or nephew. Emma's education comes first.”

“I'm glad to hear that, Killian.”

Emma rolled her eyes, not believing this conversation was actually happening. She and Killian hadn't even spoken properly about kids yet! They'd only been together for three months! What did Ingrid think she was playing at? Emma knew they were in no way ready for that kind of commitment; living together was plenty fast for her.

After lunch (with no more embarrassing topics, thank god), the trio headed into downtown Boston for the Common. It was the usual spot to begin the Freedom Trail. This was another activity Emma had done in high school, but since history wasn't her strong suit, she hadn't paid much attention.

It was cold so they bundled up, Killian in his scarf, Emma in her beanie. Ingrid liked history so she collected the brochures and talked as they followed, hand in gloved hand. Despite the temperatures, they weren't the only group taking the tour; there were a couple of official tour guides leading small groups. Emma was glad they hadn't done that; she liked going at their own pace. They saw the Massachusetts State House, King's Chapel, the Ben Franklin statue, the site of the Boston Massacre.

Killian and Ingrid got into a discussion of art as propaganda, while Emma tried to imagine being a frightened cold young sentry faced with an angry mob. They'd studied the case in one of her classes; she admired John Adams' insistence that the British soldiers get a fair trial. That was what she wanted to do someday, serve the cause of justice.

They moved on to Faneuil Hall, where they got separated to wander through it. Emma ditched her beanie and gloves for a bit, happy to be out of the cold.

“Cold, love?” Killian asked, unwinding his own scarf.

“A little. I'll warm up soon.”

“Want some help with that?” he asked with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “Down, boy.”

He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “I was merely jesting, love.”

“I know. God, Ingrid's going to think we're a pair of sex crazied idiots.”

“I doubt that. However, she does think I'm cute.”

“Don't remind me.” It was a little weird having her mother think her boyfriend was cute. Killian wasn't just cute, he was hot and scrumptious and all hers.

“You're adorable when you're annoyed.”

“Shut up.”

They walked through the place, in no hurry because that meant going back outside. They listened to one of the talks, then moved on to the great hall. Killian took in the architecture, it again reminding him of similar places in London. He couldn't wait to show Emma where he came from.

“What are you thinking about?” Emma asked.

“Nothing. Just some of the things we'll be doing in London.”

“Touristy stuff?”

He scratched nervously behind his ear. “I have planned a few outings for us, if that's alright.”

She smiled. “I'm sure whatever you planned will be fun.”

He kissed her hair. “Look at us, love. A Brit and an American. In this room we would have been on different sides.”

She laughed. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Oh really? Do you think I would have been swayed by your charms, love?”

She looked around and tugged him into a corner. “I don't know, Killian. Would you?”

He framed her face with his hands, lowering his head to kiss her lips. “I think in any time or world you would be hard to resist, my love.” He kissed her again, groaning softly as her arms slipped under his coat, holding him to her until they broke for air.

“Good.” She stood up on her toes and stole another kiss. “We should go find my mom.”

“Aye.” They headed back into the hall, hands clasped tight. They found Ingrid near the gift shop, waiting patiently. Emma felt a little guilty about their stolen moment, making her mom wait. But Ingrid didn't seem to notice, merely inquiring if they were ready to continue. Emma and Killian replaced their hats, gloves and scarves before venturing back into the cold.

It was a long walk from Faneuil to the Charlestown Peninsula but they dutifully followed Ingrid. Emma knew the _Constitution_ was waiting for them in the harbor and really wanted Killian to see that. Given his recent interest in pirates, she thought it would be fun. Plus she was looking forward to getting a good whiff of the salt air from the north Atlantic.

The ship's museum was another opportunity to ditch the winter coats; poor Ingrid got stuck with their things while Emma and Killian scoured the museum. As Emma suspected, Killian was like a kid in a candy store. She stole a few candid shots of him with her phone; he was too cute like this. When it was time to go out to the ship, he could barely contain his excitement.

The wind had picked up while they were indoors, but it didn't deter them. Ingrid insisted on taking pictures of them exploring the ship. The old ship was in dry dock going through another round of restoration but it didn't take away from the experience. Killian's favorite picture of the day was them at the helm of the ship, kissing. He planned on adding it to the collection of picturess on his bookcase at home.

They ate dinner at a colonial style pub about halfway back to the Common; Emma was glad to be off her feet. Their waitress was a huge fan of Killian's accent; Emma swore she came to check on them more often than was normal. Killian noticed her mild annoyance, needling her gently about it. She pretended to scowl, to be annoyed with him instead but her words had no bite.

“I'll give you a foot rub later,” Killian whispered as they left. Emma nodded, pleased that he seemed to assume that she'd come to him again after her mother went to bed. It was getting late and after all the walking, she was ready for some sleep. She sat in the back with Killian on the drive back home, resting her head on his shoulder. Killian nodded at Ingrid in the rearview mirror, moving to better hold her as she dozed off.

Killian was beginning to nod off himself by the time they pulled into Ingrid's driveway. He gently nudged Emma awake. “We're here, love.”

“Ugh, okay.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. They followed her mom into the house, sluggishly removing their coats and hats. Emma stretched her arms above her head, indulging in a jaw cracking yawn. “I think I'm gonna go to bed. I'm pooped.”

Ingrid nodded. “Okay, honey. Good night.”

“Aye, good night, lass.” Killian kissed her chastely. “I'll see you soon?” he whispered in her ear.

She hugged him. “Yeah. Text me when she goes to bed.”

He nodded his acknowledgment, watching her leave. “Coffee?” Ingrid asked, jerking him back to reality.

“Caffeine probably isn't the best idea,” he said.

“Hot chocolate then? I thought we could talk.”

Oh. Right. He should have suspected this was coming. “That would be lovely,” he said. He followed Ingrid into the kitchen, surreptitiously sending Emma a text. If she wished to sleep, he wouldn't blame her. They'd all had a long day. Ingrid made the hot chocolate from scratch, adding whipped cream and cinnamon, just as Emma did. “I see where Emma gets her favorite drink from.”

Ingrid chuckled. “Actually, I got it from her,” she said, handing him a mug and sitting across from him. “She was very...stubborn when she was first placed with me.”

Killian nodded. “She still is. One of her more endearing traits.”

“I'm glad you think so.”

He sipped at the hot chocolate. “I am serious in my intentions, Ingrid. I know Emma well enough to know that we'll have rough patches but I swear to you I will make her happy, if she wants me.”

Ingrid nodded. “I believe you. And she adores you. I've never seen her so happy. After the Neal debacle, I thought she'd closed her heart for good, which would be a terrible shame.”

“She was guarded; knowing what little I do about this Neal fellow, I can't say I blame her. I was the same when we met.”

“The age difference doesn't bother you?”

Killian shook his head. “Not in the slightest. I'm content to move forward at her pace, as long as I get to be by her side.”

“And you're prepared to uproot your life to follow her to law school? Support her dreams?”

He nodded seriously. “I haven't put down any firm roots since leaving England. I've banked much of my salary, so I have a considerable savings. My visa is up to date and I plan on looking for both a home and a job as soon as I know where we're going. With Emma's blessing, I'm really going to give my art another try in addition to teaching while Emma goes to school.”

Ingrid blinked, surprised. “Seems you've given this a lot of thought.”

“Along with Emma. We've been discussing our options for a few weeks now. I think she's excited about our future.”

Ingrid downed the last of her hot chocolate, considering him. “I just want her to be happy. To enjoy everything life has to offer, before it's gone.” She smiled. “I think you two will be very happy together. Welcome to the family, Killian.”

He smiled softly. “Thank you, Ingrid.” They said their good nights and Killian headed for the bathroom to change into his sleep pants and t-shirt. As requested, he sent Emma a text announcing her mother had gone to bed, but he wasn't surprised when she didn't join him in the lumpy sofa bed. She needed her sleep. He got as comfortable as he could before falling asleep himself, a small weight lifted with the knowledge that Ingrid approved of him.

* * *

The next morning Emma found Ingrid and Killian in the kitchen, talking quietly. She'd slept later than she thought; they were each on their second cups of coffee. “Hey, did I miss breakfast?”

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Ingrid replied, smiling. “There's an omelet for you in the microwave.”

“You're the best.” She smiled and hugged her mom from behind. She swung around the table and gave Killian a kiss. “Hey.”

“I was about to come get you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It's late even for you.”

“Guess I was more tired than I thought.” She squeezed back before going to collect her breakfast. “So what's the plan today?”

Ingrid looked apologetic. “I'm so sorry, Emma, but I have to go into the shop. Anastasia has the flu and I need to cover her shift.”

“Oh. That sucks.” They were flying to London tomorrow.

“Is there anywhere you want to go? I can drop you on my way.”

Emma shook her head. As much as she wanted to spend time with her mom, she wasn't keen on another day of walking. “I think we might hang around here. Do you mind?” she asked, glancing at Killian.

“A day of rest sounds fine, love.”

Ingrid nodded. “Well, call if you need anything. I'll bring dinner from Tony's when I get off.”

“That sounds great. Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course, honey.” Ingrid finished her coffee and cleaned up the remnants of breakfast before leaving for the ice cream shop. Killian offered to help, but she wouldn't hear of it. “Relax, Killian. I can handle a few dishes.”

“Did you sleep well, Emma?” Killian asked as soon as Ingrid was gone.

“Yeah. Sorry I missed your message.”

He shook his head. “I'd much rather you sleep. Besides, your mother and I had an interesting chat.”

Her stomach dropped. “You did?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“We did. She made us hot chocolate and we talked about our favorite person.”

Emma scowled. “Ugh, really?”

Killian stood, sliding her sloppy ponytail over her shoulder. “Aye,” he said, lightly massaging her neck. Emma groaned in spite of herself. How did he know that was what she needed? “She just wants to make certain you're happy, love.”

Emma ate the last bite of her omelet, leaning back into his touch. “This makes me happy,” she murmured, eyes falling closed. Seriously, the man's hands were _magic._

“She inquired about our prospective future as well.”

“Sorry.”

“She wouldn't be your mother if she didn't worry, Emma.”

“I know.” She appreciated it but Emma was certain of how she felt. She loved Killian and knew he loved her. She was really looking forward to building their life together.

“So what shall we do today?”

“I was serious about resting, you know.” Then she frowned. “But...maybe a little walk? I could show you the neighborhood, where I went to school. If you want.”

Killian bent down and kissed her cheek. “I'd love to know more about your beginnings, love.”

Once more they bundled up against the cold. Emma's high school was in walking distance of her neighborhood, so it didn't matter that Ingrid had taken her car. They strolled arm in arm through the quaint neighborhood, Emma pointing out places from her time there. They met a few of the neighbors, many of whom knew Emma by name. They were thrilled to meet Killian, to see Emma back for a visit. After swinging by the high school, they went back to the house; Emma was oddly quiet.

“Something the matter, sweetheart?” Killian asked gently.

“No, not really. Just thinking about how much things have changed.”

“Is change such a bad thing?”

“No! No. When I was little, all I wanted was a family, a home. Ingrid gave me that. But now I have so much more. I mean, we're moving in together. A home of our own. We're going to meet your family. It's just...overwhelming, I guess.”

Killian wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his side. “This place will always be your home, Emma. But I am very excited to create another home with you.”

“I am too.” She hugged him tightly; she was so lucky. Killian just got her. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand and guided him to her room. “See what I mean? The bed's tiny.”

“I do believe I like your other one better,” he said with a smirk. “But this will do.”

“For what?”

“I believe I owe you a foot massage, no?”

She grinned. She shut the door behind her and locked it. Ingrid wouldn't be home for hours, but she wasn't taking any chances. Killian removed his shoes and climbed up on the small twin bed. He tapped his lap, urging Emma to join him. She stripped off her shoes, socks and oversized sweatshirt, leaving her in yoga pants and a camisole. She scrambled into the bed and stretched out her feet into Killian's lap. Killian lifted each foot to his lips and kissed the arch. Emma didn't even try to suppress her shiver.

“Just relax, Emma,” he murmured, lifting her right foot into his sure hands. She groaned as his talented fingers began working out the tension in her muscles, the lingering soreness slowly dissipating. She rested her hands on her stomach, watching him with heavy lidded eyes. “Feel better?”

She smiled lazily. “Yeah.” He kissed her big toe before switching feet. Emma groaned appreciatively, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Hmm, don't stop.”

He smirked down at her. “Why, my dear Emma, you act as if I'm trying to seduce you.”

“Aren't you?” she asked, rubbing his leg with her free foot.

He wet his lips; she was too tempting by half. “If I was?”

She sat up. “Well, we _are_ alone. And I've missed you.”

He leaned in, capturing her lips. “Is that so?”

She extracted her foot and climbed into his lap. “Very much.” She licked the slope of his neck, his pulse increasing under her tongue. Killian's hands slid up under her silk camisole, stroking her back, hissing when she nuzzled the sensitive spot below his ear. She nibbled on his earlobe, rotating her hips in his lap. Neither of them were in a hurry, kissing lazily, pausing only to remove their shirts. Killian laid her out on the narrow bed, mouth attached to her skin. He fondled her breasts, toying with the nipples until they were hard and stiff. Emma whimpered, reaching up to grip the wooden rungs of her childhood bed. Her back arched, trying to get more friction, wetness pooling between her thighs.

“I'm going to lick every inch of you,” Killian murmured, swirling his tongue around a puckered nipple. “You'll never be able to sleep in this bed without thinking of me.”

“Oh god.” She automatically thought of the first night of Thanksgiving vacation when they had dirty phone sex, Emma touching herself to the sound of his voice. Now he was here, making good on his promise.

“Do I have to tie you to the bed, darling?”

Her clit throbbed in response, which surprised her. “Do you want to?”

Killian growled low in his throat. “Don't tease me, love.”

She raised her head. “Do it.”

Killian surged forward, kissing her hard on the mouth. “Do you have a scarf?”

She nodded. “In the dresser, top drawer.”

Killian kissed her again briefly, hopping off the bed and hurrying to her dresser. It took him a minute or so to find something suitable; Emma didn't mind as she got to take in his toned physique from behind. His jeans hung low on his hips and hugged his ass perfectly. Emma squirmed, reaching down to fondle her breast and rub herself through her yoga pants. Killian found her like that a moment later, his fist tightening around the scarf. “Bloody hell.”

She smirked. “What?”

“Impatient, love?”

Emma arched her back, a pulse of lust shooting down her spine. He made her feel free; she could be as sexual as she wanted with him. “You were taking too long.”

Killian grunted, adjusting his straining pants. “Bloody siren.” He loved watching her touch herself but he had plans for that body. He stalked back to the bed, climbing up and settling between her spread legs. He held the scarf between his teeth and gently stilled her hands. Killian dragged them up her body until he hovered over her, his clothed cock grinding against her heated center. Emma keened, rolling her hips up, staring deeply into his lust filled eyes. Killian released the scarf; it fluttered down over her pale throat. “Feel what you do me, lass.” He thrust against her and she moaned. “I just want to fuck you into this mattress until you're screaming my name.”

Emma inhaled sharply, biting her lip. “Please,” she whimpered. Her clit throbbed painfully; it was almost embarrassing how much he could make her want.

“Ah, ah, love. I intend to make you earn it.”

“Shit,” she hissed. Killian laid her wrists together above her head, deftly looping the scarf around them. Once they were tied together, he tied the end off to the rungs of the headboard.

“I hope this bed is sturdy,” he said wickedly. She tugged a little on her bonds; the knots were just tight enough. “Okay?” She nodded. He stroked her cheek. “Choose a safe word, Emma.”

She frowned but gave it some thought. “Violet.”

He grinned. “Good girl.” He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, leaving them both breathless. Then he kissed his way down her prone body, teeth scraping over her skin. He sucked a mark into her flat stomach as he pulled down her yoga pants, underwear and all. He nuzzled her smooth mound his scruff leaving angry red marks on her skin. She expected him to just dive in, but he bypassed her aching cunt with a devious smirk. Emma whined in complaint as he made good on his earlier promise, lips, tongue and hands moving over every inch of her skin. It didn't matter how much she whined, how much she begged, he gave her no relief to the ache in her core. Killian chuckled and flipped her over, resuming his sensuous assault on her body. He spread her cheeks, licking her, making her shudder and whimper.

“Killian...fuck,” she gasped, trying to rock her hips into the mattress. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck.”_

“Up on your knees, lass.” Killian loosened his pants, shoving them over his hips as she obeyed. He grabbed her hips and rubbed his cock along the crack of her ass, making them both hiss and groan. He squeezed the firm cheeks, watching her writhe for them. “You are so bloody hot,” he murmured against her back. “Can't get enough of your sweet body, Emma.”

She moaned, walls clenching. “Teasing,” she whined her speech down to single words. “Need.”

“Aye, I know what you need.” He kicked his pants away and lowered his head between her legs. Emma buried her head in her pillow, crying out in relief as his warm tongue lapped at her soaking flesh. He feasted on her eagerly, drawing nonsense with his tongue; Emma whimpered and shook, the coil tightening in her belly. Her first orgasm hit without warning, her screams muffled by the pillow. But Killian didn't let up; he lapped her at juices, winding her up again and again. After her third orgasm, he licked her clean before kissing her sweaty skin. “Such a good girl.”

Emma panted, trying to regain some semblance of herself. She wasn't even certain of her own name. Killian eased her on to her back, giving her some moments to recover, lightly stroking his cock. Emma's chest heaved, her eyes fluttering open. She should have been sated but she needed to feel him inside her. She licked her lips as she watched him touch himself, the slow pulls on his thick red cock.

He knew she was watching him, encouraged it, putting on a little show for her. “Tell me what you need, darling.”

She squirmed, more wetness leaking from her cunt. “I need you.”

“Not whom, sweetheart. What.”

She bucked her hips. “I need your cock in me. _Fucking_ me.”

Killian nodded, raising her legs. He rubbed her with his cock, teasing her clit, her entrance, coating his cock with her arousal. Slowly, he sank inside her tight heat, groaning loudly in pleasure. Emma whimpered; he was so thick like this, she could feel every solid inch of him. He held her legs together as he took her, slow strokes, dragging along her walls until she was gasping, begging. She pulled fruitlessly on her bonds, her pleasure at his mercy.

“So good,” Killian breathed, kissing her ankle. “So fucking tight, just perfect.” He picked up his pace, hand sliding up her slick stomach and mauling her breast. He tweaked her nipples and Emma cried out, the added stimulation driving her crazy.

“Killian, _please_. Please let me come.”

“As you wish.” He slipped his free hand down to where they were joined, vigorously rubbing her slick clit. He thrust deeper, harder, striking her g spot over and over; Emma was quickly overwhelmed with sensation, screaming, begging, more, harder, faster until all she could say was his name as she came apart in his hold, her fourth orgasm nearly dragging her into unconsciousness. She held on by a thread, walls still fluttering as he came deep inside her. He rode her until they were spent, his harsh pants hot on her sweaty skin.

Emma might have dozed off; the next thing she knew Killian was tenderly kissing her wrists and tucking her under the covers. “Killian?” she mumbled.

“Hush, darling. You don't have to talk.”

She opened her eyes, reaching for him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“It's not nothing. Talk to me, Killian.”

He showed her the light chafe marks on her wrists. “I may have gotten a bit carried away. Apologies, lass.”

“That's what you're all frowny about?” She'd enjoyed every moment of their intense lovemaking.

“Frowny?”

She ran her thumb over the crease in his brow. “Yeah, frowny. You didn't hurt me. I wanted all of that.”

“I doubt your mother would approve.”

“Good thing she's not here then.”

“No, but she will be.”

“So I'll wear a long sleeve shirt. No big deal. You're so dramatic, babe.”

“I just know how important her approval is to you. And I want her to be okay with us.”

“Killian, I'm pretty sure she knows we're having sex. Yeah, she's my mom, so she doesn't want to hear about it. But she's not naive.”

“Which explains why she has us sleeping in separate beds.”

Emma laughed. “That won't be a problem at your brother's, right?”

He shook his head. “We'll have our own room, love.” He smirked. “We may have to keep it down though.”

She giggled. “That should be an adventure.”

“Or a challenge.”

“You love those.”

“I do.” He kissed her wrists again; the red marks were fading a bit but she'd happily wear a sweatshirt to make him feel better. He kissed her lips tenderly. “You are my favorite challenge, my love.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked at the clock. “We've got a few hours before my mom comes home. What should we do?”

He slid in behind her, nuzzling her neck. They were still naked, but they liked it that way. “I think my lass needs her beauty rest.”

“Hmm, I can get behind that.” She snatched up her phone and set the alarm for an hour before her mom was due to get home. After that, she leaned back against him and settled in for a nap, letting his low voice lull her to sleep.

* * *

Ingrid got up early the next morning; intent on making breakfast before her daughter and her boyfriend left for the airport. The least she could so was make sure they had a decent meal before braving the hazards of international travel. She wished they didn't have to go so soon; it broke her heart a little bit every time Emma left home. But her little girl was growing up; all Ingrid could do was wish her well.

She passed the living room on her way to the kitchen, doing a double take at the sofa bed. The tangle of blankets was very familiar. She stepped closer; sure enough, Emma was there, sleeping peacefully in Killian's arms. The sight tugged at her heart; it was such a change from the girl she knew. She was so amazed that she couldn't be angered or upset about the lovers flouting her loose rule about sleeping in separate beds. How had she not seen this before?

Ingrid wiped at unexpected tears, hurrying to the kitchen to start breakfast. She hummed softly to herself, preparing some of Emma's favorites. The smell of coffee floated through the house, eventually rousing a sleepy Emma.

Coffee? What time was it? Emma blinked at the VCR; it was a little after seven. Her mom was awake already? It only took a moment for that thought to settle before she gasped in panic. _Her mom was awake._

Killian stirred but Emma soothed him back to sleep. If her mom had seen them, she wanted to deal with it herself. Killian was nervous enough about Ingrid. Once he was still, she swung out of the bed and slipped her fuzzy slippers back on her feet. She headed for the kitchen, steeling herself. “Hi, Mom.”

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?”

“Um, yeah. You're up early.”

“I thought we'd get an early start so you don't have to rush. International travel is a whole other kind of flying, Emma.”

“Oh. Okay.” She walked over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. “So, um...”

“It's okay, Emma. You don't have to explain.”

She exhaled in relief. “Oh. Thanks, I think. Killian will be relieved.”

“I don't mean to make him nervous.”

“It's one of his more endearing—if frustrating—qualities. He wants you to like him.”

“I do.” She flipped some French toast. “I guess it's sometimes hard to remember you're not a little girl anymore.”

Emma smiled into her coffee cup, remembering their lovemaking from the day before. She still ached in all the right places, her favorite kind of ache. “Being an adult does have its perks.”

Ingrid grinned. “Okay, now we're getting into things I don't need to know. As long as you're happy.”

Emma came over and hugged her mom from behind. “I'm very happy, Mom. I promise you.”

“That's all I want for you, Emma. Now go shower and wake that boyfriend of yours so we can get you off to London!”

Emma giggled and headed off to do just that.

 


	23. Chapter 23

“Wake up, love,” Killian whispered, gently shaking Emma's shoulder. They'd only been in the air for about thirty minutes before she was asleep. He wasn't all that surprised, given how they spent the previous day and bit of the night. Besides, she'd just spent an entire semester working her cute arse off; she was entitled to some extra sleep.

“Ugh,” Emma mumbled in complaint. “What's up?” She didn't want to open her eyes; Killian's side was comfy.

“We're getting ready to land, sweetheart,” he informed her. “Almost there.”

Reluctantly, she raised her head. “Did I sleep the whole time?”

“Most of it. You grumbled a bit as the food trolley came by but aside from that you were out like a light.” He smiled fondly at her, lightly squeezing her hand. “Feel rested?”

She rolled her eyes. “I think I've got a crick in my neck.”

“Buckle your belt and I'll try to work it out before we touch down.”

Emma looked at him skeptically, but did as he asked. She turned her hips a bit in the narrow seat, taking a peek out the window as Killian began to work his magic on her sore neck. She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning; she was never going to need to _pay_ for a massage ever again, not when Killian could make her feel like this. His strong artist's fingers kneaded the aching muscles and she melted under his touch. He finished just as they began their descent; Emma rolled her head experimentally.

“You are amazing,” she said happily.

He smirked, pleased. “You're welcome.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I'll repay you later,” she said huskily.

“I look forward to it.”

Their plane landed on time at Heathrow; due to the time difference, it was dark when they arrived. They disembarked and went through customs, a time consuming process. Killian called to let Liam know they had touched down as they waited for their bags. As in Boston, he got them a trolley, filling it as each of the bags went by on the conveyor belt.

Emma sent her mom a text to let her know they landed safely; she was trying not to fidget. Now that they were actually in England, she was nervous. Very nervous. Meeting Killian's family was a huge deal; she didn't want to give them a bad impression. Almost three weeks had passed since her disastrous first meeting with Liam; she wanted this one to go better. And Liam's wife! She was nervous and excited to meet Molly in person; talking via Skype just wasn't the same thing.

“Everything okay, lass?” Killian asked, lifting their last bag onto the trolley.

“Yeah. Just nervous, I guess.”

“Ah.” He slipped her phone back into her pocket and took her hands in his. “I'm going to tell you what you told me: they will love you. I promise.”

“The first meeting didn't go so well.”

“Because my brother was being an arse. You did nothing wrong, Emma.”

She nodded. “I know. I guess I'm always wary around new people.”

He kissed her forehead. “I'll be with you the whole time.”

They gathered their things and moved toward the arrivals gate. Killian searched the crowd for the tall figure of his brother, a bit nervous himself. He hadn't been home in several years; he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He'd been under such a cloud when he left, so heartbroken. Now he was back, happy and in love, something he hadn't thought possible a few short months ago. Emma had changed so much about his life, brought such light. He wanted her to enjoy herself on this trip.

“Killian! Oi! Over here!”

Killian laughed, spotting Liam waving frantically. To his surprise, he noticed Molly was with him. He tugged on Emma's hand, nodding in their direction. She smiled tentatively and followed him. The trolley ensured people made a path; in moments, the two couples were face to face.

“Liam, Molly,” Killian said, hugging each of them.

Molly gave him an extra tight squeeze, despite her slightly protruding belly. “It is so good to see you, Killian.”

He nodded, straightening up. “It's good to be home,” he agreed. He reached for Emma's hand. “Molly, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Emma Swan. Emma, this is Molly.”

Molly beamed at Emma, not hesitating to hug her as well. “We're so thrilled you could come. We'll have such a lovely time getting to know each other, Emma.”

Emma nervously tucked some hair behind her ear. “I'd like that. It's so nice of you to host us.”

“You're family; it's no trouble at all. Right, Liam?”

Liam nodded. “Aye, it'll be nice to have some other than Molly's parents visiting.”

“Liam!” Molly cried, smacking her husband's arm. “He's kidding. Mostly.”

Emma soaked in their easy banter; they reminded her of her and Killian. It was clear, despite their teasing, they were madly in love with each other. She took Killian's hand, smiling at him, wondering if he saw it too. Liam took over the trolley as they headed for his car. The boys loaded the SUV with the luggage while Emma and Molly got in. Emma was confused for a moment, until she remembered the English drove on the opposite side of the road.

“How was your flight?” Molly asked from the front seat.

“Okay,” Emma said. “I slept through most of it.”

“Understandable. Is Killian behaving?”

Emma frowned. “Um, yeah?”

Molly laughed. “It was a trick question, Emma. Forgive me. I'm just not used to seeing him so happy.”

“Is that bad?”

Molly continued to smile. “Not at all! Oh my goodness, Emma, you have no idea how thrilled I am to see him happy. He's got such a good heart; it was painful to see him so unhappy. And then he left...I despaired of him ever finding happiness.”

“Do you know why he left?”

Molly shook her head. “Not until Liam came back from his visit. I had my suspicions, but no specifics. I imagine he confided in you?”

“Not right away. But I knew almost immediately that he was like me. That he'd been heartbroken.”

Molly smiled sympathetically. “Then I am doubly glad you found one another. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

“I hope you like Indian food, Emma,” Liam said, climbing into the driver's seat. “We took the liberty of ordering in, since you are surely exhausted from traveling. It's all Molly's been craving lately.”

Molly scowled at him. “Pay him no mind, Emma. I can make you something else if you want.”

“I've never had real Indian food,” she said honestly. “I'll try it.” Killian just chuckled, threading their fingers together as Liam pulled into traffic. So far their trip was off to a great start.

It was nearly midnight London time when they headed for bed. Killian was mildly concerned about keeping his sister in law up so late, but she just laughed at him. She was almost five months along now, still very healthy, pampered by her husband and parents. The quartet passed the time gathered in Liam and Molly's kitchen, catching up. It was surprisingly easy for Emma to just slip in; there was no awkwardness like there had been with  _her_ mother.

“Good day?” Killian asked, unpacking some of his things into the dresser.

Emma nodded. “Yeah. I like Molly a lot.”

“I think the feeling is mutual, love.” Molly was an only child. While she had good girlfriends, Killian suspected she was hoping Emma would become a sister like figure for her. He didn't dare mention it, as it skirted perilously close to his own hopes for he and Emma. She was young; they had plenty of time.

“Would you mind if we had a girls' day at some point?” Emma had to admit, she missed Elsa. Her best friend would love this kind of trip.

Killian was surprised she even had to ask. “Of course not. I think it'll be good for you to spend some time together.”

“You and Liam too.”

He smiled. Of course she wanted to make sure he and Liam were working on their relationship after so many hurt feelings and strife. Her compassion was one of his favorite things about her. “Aye, us too.”

They finished putting their things away. They would be staying for a little over three weeks; living out of their bags was impractical. They worked in comfortable silence, the weight of first impressions completely gone. Emma wasn't that tired (it was only about eight o'clock according to her internal clock) but she changed into pajamas anyway and crawled into bed. She got out a book while Killian continued to wander around the room, fixing things to suit them. Emma propped herself up on the fluffy pillows, reading, occasionally peering over her book to watch him. It was so easy to imagine more nights like this, getting ready for bed together, her with a book, him with his sketchpad or a book of his own. It was sweet and domestic and she liked it.

“Are you ever going to come to bed?” she asked as he disappeared into the closet again.

“Am I bothering you, love?”

“No, I was just curious.”

Killian tucked the garment bag he was fiddling with back onto the rack. “One minute.” He changed into the plaid pajama bottoms Emma favored and a t-shirt, joining her in the bed. The moment he was settled, she tucked herself into his side, still reading her book. He kissed the top of her head, smiling indulgently. This was the kind of intimacy he craved, quiet moments where they just enjoyed each other's company. “Sleepy?”

Emma turned the page. “Not yet. This time difference will be hard to get used to.”

“Aye. It took me some time to adjust when I first moved to the States.”

“Do you think they'll mind if we sleep late?”

“I doubt it. Liam still has work, I think. I asked them not to change too much of their routine for us.”

“I'm surprised they don't have a tree yet.”

“A Christmas tree?” He stroked her upper arm idly. “How would you feel about all of us shopping for one together? Molly suggested it; I said I'd ask you. Then we could have a trimming party, just the four of us.”

Emma laid aside her book, turning to look up at him. “Really?” Until Ingrid, Christmas was one of her least favorite holidays; it was all about family and she had none. But Ingrid gave her a family and completely changed her outlook. Celebrating this Christmas with Killian's family meant a lot to her.

“If it's too much...”

“No! I want to. I guess...I just didn't expect them to be so...welcoming.”

Killian swallowed. “Don't take this the wrong way, love, but you're already very much family to me. We're planning on building a life together, yeah?”

She gazed into his blue eyes, still overwhelmed by the love she saw there. But in a good way. She decided a long time ago that this was a leap worth taking. “Yeah, we are. You're my family too.”

He let out an exaggerated breath. “Thank god for that, as your mum already welcomed me to the family.”

Emma's brow furrowed. “When did she do that?”

“During our little chat after you'd gone to bed.”

“Oh. That was...nice of her?”

Killian laughed, combing his fingers through her soft tresses. “It was a relief, I'll not lie.”

“I told you she'd love you.”

“Aye, you did.”

“I'm glad we visited,” Emma continued, toying with the cotton of his shirt. “But I'm glad we didn't stay long.”

“Did you not like being home?”

“I did, but that fold out couch was horrible.”

“You didn't have to sleep there.”

She shrugged. “Maybe not. But I like this. Us. Being a couple.” She blushed. “Sounds dumb, right?”

“It's not dumb at all, Emma. I must admit I like it as well.”

Emma chewed on her lip for a moment before leaning up to kiss him. He held her tightly to him as they shared a slow, sweet good night kiss.

* * *

Tree shopping came later than Emma expected. When Killian mentioned it, she was honored and excited, but nothing happened right away. Molly insisted she and Killian adjust to the time difference before doing anything big. Emma felt a bit like a lazybones, sleeping so late the first few days in London. They typically didn't wake up until noon, eating a late lunch before spending the afternoon either with Molly or exploring the neighborhood.

On the third day, Killian quietly mentioned visiting his mother's grave; Emma immediately offered to go with him. It had been years since he'd been there; she wanted him to know she was there for him. They took one of the classic black cabs to a flower shop near the cemetery, choosing a beautiful arrangement filled with his mother's favorite lilies. She held his hand as they strolled down the street to the cemetery; Killian was very quiet.

“You okay?” she ventured.

He sighed. “Honestly, I'm not sure.”

“It's okay. You don't have to be okay.” She didn't even know what happened to her biological parents; she couldn't imagine losing Ingrid.

He smiled sadly, lips brushing her temple. “Thank you for coming, love.”

“Nowhere else I'd rather be.” She squeezed his hand as they stepped through the wrought iron gate into the cemetery. With winter, all the leaves were gone from the few trees that dotted the yard, the grass was brown and lifeless. But Emma could feel the history in the air as she followed Killian through the rows of stones. It had been years but Killian still remembered where she was. Liam would probably want to come by before they returned to the States, but this first time, Killian wanted to be alone. Well, not alone. He couldn't describe how much it meant to him that Emma stood at his side. He stared at the cold stone, memories of his mother's kind smile and stout heart flitting across his brain. She'd believed in his art wholeheartedly; he wanted to make her proud. Shame at failing her was part of the reason he ran when Milah betrayed him so badly. Thanks to Emma he was going to try again; her belief in him reignited his passion for it.

Emma watched his face, felt the tension and sadness in his shoulders. Her heart broke for him, but she wasn't sure how to comfort him. She didn't have any experience with grief like this. She just held his hand, silently letting him know she was there. Killian took the flowers from her and knelt in front of the stone, brushing away the lingering snow before laying the wreath on top of it. His lips skimmed the tips of his gloves and pressed them to the marker.

“I love you, Mum,” he said gently. “And I miss you.”

Tears stung Emma's eyes; she felt like she was intruding on private moment. But she didn't move. To her shock, he mentioned her, how he'd rediscovered his love for art and how much he knew she would like Emma. Emma got a lump in her throat; she was so touched by the tender way he spoke of her. She didn't think she could love him more than she already did, but she was so, so wrong.

Killian stood abruptly and wrapped Emma up in a bear hug, burying his face in her scarf clad neck. The tears he'd held in check flowed freely and Emma joined him, so thankful to share this emotional, intimate moment with him.

Gradually, he pulled himself together, raising his head and smiling sheepishly. “I didn't mean to make you cry, Emma.”

She smiled through her tears. “It's okay.” She cupped his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the tear tracks. “I love you.”

“Love you too. So much.” He brushed her lips with his, then her tear stained cheeks; they were a bit cold. They hugged again and left the cemetery hand in hand. They walked a couple of blocks before hailing another cab to take them a little coffee shop Killian used to frequent. They enjoyed a quiet coffee date, Killian telling some happy stories about his mother. They were in a much more positive mood when they returned to Liam's house, just in time for Molly to scold them for not calling.

“Sorry, lass,” Killian apologized, kissing her cheek. “Thought we'd see a bit more of the city.”

His sister in law's face softened. “Well, Liam called. Wants to go find our tree after work.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Molly looked apologetic. “Would you two mind bringing the decorations down from the attic? I would but...” She rubbed her hand over her belly. “I don't think the little one would appreciate that.”

“Sure,” Emma said. “It's no trouble.”

“Thanks. I'll start baking some cookies for the trimming. Killian, do you still like chocolate chip?”

“I'm offended you even need to ask.”

Molly laughed. “A couple dozen coming up then. Emma? Any special kind of cookie for you?”

“Oh, you don't have to go to all that trouble.”

“I promise you, it's not. Now fess up.”

Emma flushed. Other than Ingrid and Killian she wasn't used to people going above and beyond for her. “Um, peanut butter?”

“I think we can do that.”

“Emma is also a great fan of hot chocolate, with whipped cream and cinnamon,” Killian added. “Perhaps we could have some of that as well?”

“Hmm, I've never made it from scratch, but it sounds delicious,” Molly said. “I'll see what I can do.”

Before Emma could protest again, Killian tugged her toward the attic. Unlike the one in his house, this one had its own door down the hall from their bedroom. They climbed the stairs, noses assaulted but the musky smell. There were so many boxes, they weren't sure where to start looking. “Um, wow,” Emma muttered.

Killian chuckled. “Aye. Seems my dear brother and his wife are packrats?”

“Maybe they're just sentimental.” She peeked in one of the boxes; there were trophies in it. She suspected they were Liam's.

Killian hugged her from behind. “Perhaps. Are we going to need this much storage?”

Emma leaned back against him. “I don't have a lot of things,” she admitted. “I moved around so much when I was little, I usually only had what I could carry. The habit kind of stuck.” She had a _few_ more things now—Ingrid had given her stability—but the things she couldn't live without only fit in a handful of boxes.

Killian squeezed her waist. “Seems we'll be moving light then.”

“Yeah.” With their own home, they could make it truly theirs, something she was secretly excited about. “We should find those decorations.”

“Aye.” He let her go and they picked through the boxes, searching. Not all of them were labeled, so it took them some time to find what they were looking for. The Christmas decorations turned out to be tucked into a corner, four medium size boxes worth. A couple of them were heavy; Emma let Killian take those, secretly enjoying watching him lift and carry. She took the lighter ones down two flights of stairs, setting them in the living room. The smell of baking cookies piqued her interest and she followed the scent to the kitchen.

Molly was there, elbow deep in cookie dough, flour staining her face. “Need a hand?” Emma asked.

“Nearly finished,” Molly said pleasantly. “Find everything okay, dear?”

“Yeah, Killian's bringing the last box now.”

“I hope you made him do all the hard work.”

Emma laughed. “He just looks so good flexing those muscles, you know?”

Molly nodded. “If he wasn't so artistic, he would have been a good athlete.”

“I like him artistic. He's very talented.”

“I've always thought so. Despite their differences, Liam's thought so too. I'm glad he starting to see that in himself again. We have you to thank for that, Emma.”

She blushed. “I didn't do anything.”

“You believed in him. Sometimes that's all we need.”

“What do we need?” Killian asked, appearing in the doorway.

“A swift kick in the arse,” Molly deadpanned, rolling some dough before flattening it with a fork.

“It's so nice to know pregnancy is agreeing with you, Molly,” Killian shot back, getting himself a glass of water. “Emma?”

“Sure.” She accepted the glass, sitting back and watching them verbally spar. Molly was sweet but she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. Emma liked her more and more each day.

Liam arrived home as the trio were laying the batches of cookies out to cool. He greeted his wife with a kiss and his brother with a playful shove in the shoulder. Emma remained back, still a bit nervous around him. She liked Liam well enough now that she knew him better, but their first meeting was difficult to shake. “Good day?” Liam asked.

“Killian and Emma brought down the decorations, so everything is ready,” Molly informed him. “We're just waiting for you.”

“So sorry to have kept you waiting,” Liam said, stealing a still warm chocolate chip cookie. Molly smacked his hand. “I'm ready whenever you are.”

“Just let me clean up. Watch him,” she warned Emma, pointing accusingly at her husband. “He's a first rate cookie stealer.”

Emma smiled. “I'll do my best.”

“Pay her no mind, Emma,” Liam said as Molly left the kitchen. “She greatly exaggerates my skills.”

“We'll see. I'm watching you.”

“She's serious about the law enforcement, brother,” Killian warned. “I wouldn't cross her.”

Liam nodded. “I remember. You'll make an excellent lawyer one day, lass.”

Emma flushed, recalling her verbal assault on him in Killian's living room. She was saved from retorting when Molly returned, cleaned up and ready to go. They piled into the foyer, fumbling with coats and scarves and beanies, Liam talking about the perfect place to buy a tree, recommended by one of his coworkers.

It was on the outskirts of Richmond, a tree lot run by an older couple. Merry lights twinkled along the rows while Christmas songs played over the loudspeakers. Emma and Ingrid only had a fake tree, since they were both hopeless at remembering to water it so the needles didn't fall off. But she liked the scent of pine as they stalked up and down the rows, searching for the perfect tree.

“Having fun, love?” Killian whispered, as Liam examined a possible tree with his engineer's eye.

She smiled. “Yeah. Is he always like this?”

“I told you he was a perfectionist,” Killian reminded her, chuckling. “This is actually mild, if memory serves.”

They both laughed, following as Liam moved on. It was cold, their breath misted in the air, but it didn't really touch them. The couples decided to split up, the better to search the large lot. There were tall trees and short trees, wide trees and skinny trees, full trees and skimpy trees. It was far more difficult than Emma imagined to find a nicely sized tree that wasn't too wide or with strange bare spots.

“What about this one?” Killian said, holding up a tree.

Emma examined it, walking around it. “Hmm, maybe? What about those loose branches on the bottom?”

“We can trim those, I think,” Killian said, kicking one of them with his foot. “Here, let me ring Liam and see what they think. Hold it?” Emma took the tree from him, wrapping her hand around the trunk. Killian called his brother, informing him what they found. It took Molly and Liam a good five minutes to make their way to them, as they were on the other side of the lot. “What do you think, brother? Molly?”

“I love it,” Molly said without hesitation. “Liam?”

Liam tilted his head, examining it critically. “Aye, I think it will serve.”

“Excellent.” Killian beamed at Emma, who looked very pleased as well. He wanted her to enjoy this time with his family, in the hopes that one day in their future his family would become hers as well. They waited while Molly haggled with the owner on the price; being the daughter of a very successful businessman, Killian knew to take her seriously. The old man clearly underestimated her but she managed to get a good price and get the netting and trimming included. By the time Liam pulled up with the car, the tree was ready to go.

He and Liam loaded the tree on the roof as the ladies piled into the car. Emma held her hands up to the heater, warming her slightly numb fingers. Killian laughed when he saw her, snatching the job for himself. She giggled as his chilly fingers hit hers, rubbing them together. Molly just grinned at them, thrilled to see her brother in law carefree and in love.

“No funny business back there,” Liam groused, pulling out into the busy Richmond traffic. “Or I'll make you walk!”

“Empty threat, brother,” Killian observed, tucking Emma into his side. “Besides you need me to help you get the tree into the house.”

“He's got you there, dear,” Molly said.

Liam pretended to look severe but the corners of his mouth twitched. He was so glad Killian was home, even if it was only for a few short weeks. He let Molly chatter away about the seasonal things she thought Killian could show Emma before they had to return to the States, keeping his eye on the road. Emma asked good questions; Liam couldn't help but feel embarrassed again for the way he'd treated her when they met. She was a very nice young woman and Killian was clearly stupidly in love with her.

When they arrived back at the townhouse the ladies headed inside to start the hot chocolate and fetch the cookies for their tree trimming while the boys actually manhandled the tree indoors. The tree was nearly eight feet tall; it would be very pretty in the front window of the living room.

“I think it needs be go a little more the right,” Liam said, tugging on the sappy trunk.

“We should probably get in the bloody stand first,” Killian complained, stretched out on the floor. “Where'd you buy this thing anyway?”

“I didn't,” Liam countered. “It was a gift.”

“Who in their right mind would buy you such a torture device?” He grunted as the trunk slipped into the hole at last.

“Molly's parents,” Liam whispered harshly. “It was her grandmother's.”

Killian glanced toward the kitchen sheepishly. “Oh. Nevermind then.”

Liam snorted. “Thanks, Killian. Real help.”

Killian scrambled up to check the straightness of the tree. It needed to go a bit more to the left. He adjusted it before speaking. “How are things with them anyway? With the baby and everything?”

“As well as can be expected. Doting mum and all that.” Molly's parents hadn't really approved of Liam when they married; Molly came from a very different background than the Jones brothers, not that anyone could tell. Molly was very outgoing, friendly to everyone. She and Liam met on a blind date through mutual friends; Molly liked to tease that it was love at first sight. For Liam.

“Bloody hell, Liam, you're structural engineer. A good one. How can the old man still hate you?”

“I don't think he hates me. He just hates that Molly has someone else in her life.”

“Where did this insight come from?”

Liam looked chagrined. “When I came to visit you. I recognized the behavior after you left to speak to Emma. Molly had a field day.” Of course she did, the woman was a trained psychologist. Getting pregnant had forced her to cut back on her practice, but she had no such restrictions on her husband.

“It's good that you're becoming self aware, brother,” Killian said with a grin.

“Sod off.”

“Are they always like this?” Emma said, carrying a tray of cookies.

“Worse usually,” Molly replied. “I don't know how they'd cope without us.”

“Should we let them find out?”

“NO!” Liam and Killian said together. Everyone laughed. “Love, would you mind checking the straightness of this bloody tree while my brother screws it in place?”

Molly plucked a cookie from the tray and stuffed it in her husband's mouth. “My pleasure.”

After the tree was secure, they took a few minutes to gather on the couch and indulge in some of Molly's cookies and some spiced up hot chocolate. There was also some eggnog to further loosen tongues and minds. The boys opened the boxes and started removing lights and tinsel and various ornaments, spreading them out to be sorted. There were a few from the boys' childhood that Emma could tell had special value. She noticed a picture on the mantle: Liam and Killian as boys flanking a kind woman with dark curly hair and blue eyes. Emma got a lump in her throat all over again, recalling the visit to the cemetery. She wished she could have met her; Molly noticed her gaze and squeezed her hand.

“She would have liked you,” Molly said quietly so the boys couldn't hear.

“That's what Killian says. Did you ever get to meet her?”

Molly shook her head. “No, that was long before my time. But all a mother wants is for her child to be happy.” She rubbed her stomach. “Look at them.” The brothers were trying to untangle a particularly gnarly knot in a strand of lights. “I hope we can be family, Emma. I'd like that very much.”

Emma squeezed her hand. “I would too.”

“Now let's get over there before they kill each other.”

* * *

Killian shut the door behind him with a soft click. “Quite the day, eh?” he sighed.

“Tired already?” Emma teased, laughing. She'd had quite a bit of eggnog and special hot chocolate; she was pleasantly buzzed.

Killian pushed off the door and advanced on her. “Who said anything about being tired, lass?” He hadn't had quite a much as her but he could feel the slight fuzziness at the edges of his awareness. Just enough to make amorous activities interesting.

Emma put her hands on his chest, kneading his muscles through the button down shirt. “Good because I'm not either.”

He laid his hands on her hips, fingers inching under her sweater. “However shall we spend the time?”

Emma tugged on his shirt, dragging him more firmly into her space, standing up on her toes. “I've got a few ideas.”

“That so?” He dragged his nose over her cheek, lips ghosting along her skin. Her hands moved down his stomach, yanking his shirt from his pants. She shoved her hands into his pockets, squeezing his ass sharply. His answering growl went straight to her clit, her buzz making her more aggressive. But she liked it and suspected Killian did too.

“Oh yeah,” she whispered, nipping at his earlobe. “Let me play?”

He let out a shuddering breath, a shiver rocketing down his spine. “Anything you wish. I'm all yours, love.”

Emma grinned and pulling her hands free to cup his face and kiss him senseless. She clung to him as he held her close, letting her plunder his mouth. He loved her aggression, all too happy to let her lead. Wetness pooled between her thighs as she sucked on his tongue. “Ugh, too many clothes.”

Killian skimmed his hands up under her sweater along her spine, curious what color lingerie she was wearing. He adored the little matching sets she had, perfect for displaying her tight lithe body. “So strip, darling.”

Emma smirked, shoving him toward the bed. “You first.” Another shove sent him bouncing on the bed and Emma straddling his hips. She bent down and kissed him again, sucking greedily on his lower lip, fingers flicking open the buttons of his shirt. Killian moaned into her mouth, shivering at the feel of her hands on his skin. They worked his shirt off, leaving him panting as Emma licked and laved her way down his chest. She swirled her tongue around his nipples, scraping her teeth over the hardened buds.

“Fuck,” he cursed, hands diving into her hair. “Bloody hell.”

“Like that?” Emma replied coyly, sucking the sensitive skin into her mouth. She loved when he did this to her; she'd long been curious if it would feel as good for him.

“Bloody minx.”

Emma moved lower, nuzzling his stomach, stretching her feet down to the floor. She could feel him, hot and hand and thick, through the denim; she rubbed her cheek over the ridge wantonly. She nibbled at the skin around his navel as she peeled the denim back, her small hand slipping inside his boxers. “Hmm, you do like it,” she said huskily, stroking him firmly.

He bucked up into her hold. “Love you touching me,” he bit out, fisting the sheet in the absence of her hair. “Such a hot little hand, lass.”

Emma bit her lip; Killian was a vocal lover and she _liked_ it. She released him long enough to shuck his pants, leaving him nude before her hungry eyes. He was well sculpted, strong...just plain _hot_. Seeing his chest straining for air, his thick turgid erection laying across his stomach...it all fueled her lust. It had been quite a day, especially emotionally, and they needed this release.

She stepped between his thighs, taking him in her hand. One stroking his cock, the other fondling his sac. Killian groaned and jerked, propping himself up on his elbows to see his love touch him. “Are you wet, Emma? Does this turn you on?” She rubbed the tip of his cock with her thumb; he hissed in pleasure. “Fuck, tell me, love.”

Emma rubbed her thighs together, a low moan in her throat. “God, I'm soaking wet,” she murmured, core clenching. “Can't wait to have you inside me.”

“So don't,” he growled back, rolling his hips into her hand. “Let me feel that tight cunt squeeze me.”

She shook her head. “I get to play.”

“Fucking hell.” He was torn between giving her her way and saying the hell with it and stripping her naked and plunging inside that tight hole. His decision was made for him when she let him go and started to strip.

The alcohol made her bolder, a littler naughtier than usual. She danced to unheard music, slowly peeling off her clothes until she was clad only in her favorite blue bra and panty set. The bra pushed up her breasts; she felt sexy and powerful as he stared at her with unabashed lust. She crawled on top of him again, until his mouth was level with her breasts. “Hmm, you like these, don't you?” she asked, fondling them through the fabric.

“Bloody perfect,” he affirmed, hoping she'd grant him a taste. But he was too proud to ask for it.

Emma continued touching herself, rubbing the nipples through the silk. “Oh god yes,” she hissed, undulating in his lap. “Feels so good.”

He bucked up, driving his neglected erection against her silk clad core. “You're killing me, lass.”

Emma giggled, reaching behind her to flick open her bra. She tossed it aside. “Better?”

He lunged for a pert nipple but she reared back, leaving him to growl in frustration. “You're playing with fire, Emma.”

“Oh, are you gonna punish me?”

He looked up at her in surprise but she didn't look afraid. In fact, she looked turned on as hell. “When you deserve it.”

She leaned down by his ear. “I look forward to it.” Then before he could speak, she offered him her needy breast and he latched on, suckling her greedily. Emma moaned, holding him there, grinding down on his rigid cock. She was so wound up, she could come like this, but she needed to feel him deep inside her. She _ached_ to be filled by him. “Fuck, I need you so much.”

Killian growled against her skin. “So take what you need.”

Emma nodded, frantic, leaning down to kiss him as she somehow shimmied out of her panties. They rolled around until they were in the middle of the bed, Emma on top once more. “Ever wonder how flexible I am?” she asked, a devilish smirk on her lips. Before Killian could ask what she meant, he froze watching her legs spread wide as she sank down on his cock. “Fuck!”

Killian clenched his jaw, mesmerized by her moving above him. She rotated her hips and he sank even deeper until he bottomed out. Their loud moans of pleasure would probably earn them a scolding from their housemates but neither cared. It was difficult to focus on anything but how fucking good he felt inside her tight heat. “God, fuck me, Emma. Wanna see you,” he panted, hands sliding up her thighs.

She nodded, focused on keeping her hips moving, hands braced on his chest. She'd never tried this position before; it took her a minute or two to find a good rhythm. But soon every stroke had him hitting her deeply, every inch of him filling her. She dragged his hand to her clit, urging him to rub her. “Need to come so much,” she pleaded, hips jerking. “Jesus.”

“This is so fucking hot,” he mumbled, circling her clit with his thumb. He knew Emma did yoga and such but he'd never dreamed anything like this. She was so tight, he just wanted to pound her into the mattress. But he let her set the pace, her hips moving in a hypnotic rhythm that had her gasping for breath, desperate to fall. “Come for me, lass. Let go.”

He pinched her clit and she screamed, heedless of where they were, her body exploding in a thousand different directions at once. Killian grunted hoarsely, her name on his lips, her walls squeezing around his thick cock, triggering his own intense high. He bucked up off the bed, vision white, blindly catching Emma as she fell. His hips rutted until he was spent, Emma whimpering in his arms.

“I've got you,” he whispered hoarsely, stroking her her damp hair. “I've always got you, my love.”

She winced in pain as she weakly tried to close her legs; Killian rolled them over, stretching Emma out on the bed. He kissed her sweaty brow and moved off her, heading for the closet. He found a stray towel and brought it back, still catching his breath as he gently cleaned her up. “Hmm,” she hummed, eyes closed.

“Don't fall asleep yet, lass,” he said, brushing her hair back with his fingers.

“Why not?”

“Because you're all cockeyed on the bed,” he chuckled. “Back in a minute.” He chucked the towel into the hamper and plucked a half empty glass of water from the nightstand. “This might be a bit warm but you should drink some, love.”

Emma whined in complaint but forced her near boneless body to some sort of sitting position. Killian held the glass as she gulped greedily, polishing it off. “Thanks.”

He merely smiled at her and replaced the glass on the nightstand. Then he peeled back the covers and helped her slide under them. He crawled in after her, remembering to leave an extra blanket at the foot of the bed. “How do you feel?”

Emma curled into his arms. She still felt boneless, sated, with just a hint of an ache. It would be worse in the morning but she welcomed it. “Good. I might need a hot bath tomorrow, take out the achies.”

“Achies?”

“That was kind of intense.”

“You are bloody brilliant, Emma.”

“You liked the view.”

“I love everything about being with you. No two times are ever the same. It's always different but it still feels like home.”

“Hmm, home. I like that.”

He kissed the crown of her head. “It's true. My home is wherever you are.”

Emma raised her head, biting her lip. “I've never been that for anyone before.”

“Is it too much?” He felt so deeply for her; he still sometimes worried about frightening her off.

She shook her head. “No. I like it. You're home for me too.”

He leaned up and placed a gentle kiss to her lips. “As pleased as I am to hear that, perhaps we should make ourselves scarce for a few days?”

“Why's that?”

“We were, ah, loud. In my brother's house.”

“Maybe if we blame the eggnog?”

“You screamed like a bloody banshee, lass.”

She flushed. “Oops?”

“Oh no, don't you take that back!” he growled, rolling them over and kissed her hard. Emma giggled and squirmed, pretending to fight him before giving into his kiss. “It's good for man's ego, that is.”

“ _You_ need an ego boost?”

“I am but a man.”

“Me jumping you the moment you closed the door isn't enough?”

“Ah, bit difficult to tell if that was you or the eggnog, love.”

Emma swatted his shoulder. “Watch it, babe. I might not go so easy next time.”

“That was easy?”

“I had this whole plan involving one of your ties...” she trailed off.

“Oh, do tell.”

“Well, it's ruined now.”

“Like I said, perhaps we should get away for a few days. I love my brother, but I want to show you around. We could even take a train somewhere. Maybe a quaint little bed and breakfast? See the country? Anything you want.”

Emma bit her lip. “Killian, are you sure? I mean, we just got here.”

“And we've still over a week before Christmas. Your mum's coming Christmas Eve, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I promise you we'll show her around the city. Go to the Tower, the Eye, all those things. Liam will be on vacation, we can all go. But perhaps a few days to ourselves wouldn't go amiss?”

Emma thought about facing Molly the next morning, knowing she'd heard them having sex. “Yeah, I think that's a good idea.”

“That's my girl.” He kissed her again and she was helpless to resist him.

 


	24. Chapter 24

Killian left Emma to her bath rather reluctantly the next morning. If they were at home, he would have happily stayed in the tub with her until the water got ice cold. Their activities the previous night had left his lover a little sore but she'd been glorious, moving above him like that.

Thinking about it was a very bad idea so he pushed the sensual thoughts away and got out his phone as he headed down to the kitchen. Breakfast with Liam and Molly, then he and Emma were heading to the train station. After the escapades the night before, he didn't expect his brother to put up too much of a fight.

“Good night, brother?” Liam asked the moment Killian stepped into the kitchen.

_Give nothing away_ , Killian thought, schooling his features. “Aye, slept like a baby.”

“Where's Emma?”

“Taking a bath. She likes those.”

“I imagine she needs it.”

Killian got a cup of coffee and tried to ignore his nosy brother. Yes, they probably shouldn't have been so loud, but Killian didn't fancy discussing his sex life with his brother. “Where's Molly?”

“Still asleep. Had some trouble falling asleep. Know anything about that?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “For god's sake, Liam. If you have a problem, just spit it out.”

“I didn't say it was a problem, exactly. But thin walls and all that. It was...unexpected?”

“I'm not a monk.”

“I never said you were. But it was very...enthusiastic,” Liam said diplomatically, a smirk playing on his lips. He took a sip of his own coffee. “Honestly, Killian, I'm happy for you. I just don't need to know _how_ happy she makes you.”

Killian blushed. How loud had they been? In his home they didn't need to hold back and they loved each other with enthusiastic abandon. It was intoxicating and perfect; being with her made him feel alive. And the things she could do...he hurriedly drank more coffee and tried to think of foul smelling paint thinner to get his body under control.

A week or so on their own seemed to be just what they needed.

“Apologies, Liam. We'll take greater care in the future.”

“You're both adults. You clearly worship the ground she walks on; I get it. I'm not that bloody naive. But I appreciate that.”

Killian helped himself to some toast. “In the spirit of honesty, I suggested to Emma we take a little trip to the country.”

“You don't have to leave, Killian.”

“Perhaps not. But I do want to show her the country. We'd return before Ingrid arrives. Give you and Molly a break from entertaining us.”

“You just got here.”

“And we'll be here until well after the New Year. We'll have plenty of time to catch up.”

“I'm going to hold you to that, brother.”

“Shouldn't be a problem. I suspect that when Ingrid arrives, the ladies will be inseparable.”

“Molly is very fond of Emma.”

“The feeling is mutual. I'm very glad to hear it, honestly. Emma doesn't have much family.”

Liam handed him a plate of eggs and bacon. “We are very lucky, Killian.”

“Amen to that.” They clinked their mugs and dug into breakfast, the conversation changing to their other favorite topic: football.

* * *

They arrived at the train station in plenty of time to board the train. Emma wasn't even sure where they were going until their train was called; Killian wanted to surprise her. They left from King's Cross at noon, bags safely stowed. Emma had never ridden a train; she was excited. It had only been a  _little_ embarrassing at breakfast with Liam nodding knowingly but refraining from speaking. Killian gave her a toe curling kiss right there in front of his brother, so Liam must not have been too upset about their night.

“What are you thinking?” Killian asked, thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

“Nothing,” Emma replied, cheeks flushing. Despite her bath, she could still feel their lovemaking from the previous night; it had been very intense, the kind that kept you warm at night.

He smiled softly. “I can't stop thinking about it either. You were magnificent.”

She blushed harder; he made it so easy to indulge in her sexuality. It was freeing. “I wonder what adventures we'll get into this week?”

“I'm excited to find out.” He kissed her temple. “Both in and out of the bedroom.”

She rolled her eyes, even though she knew he was right. Now that they could be a couple out in the open, the world was theirs. And she'd be lying if she didn't have a few fantasies for them to explore. She smiled mischievously and leaned in by his ear. “Do you promise?”

Ugh, her low seductive tone was killing him. “Minx.”

“You didn't answer me.” She bit on his earlobe, just because she could.

“Anything you want, love. It's yours.”

She smiled brilliantly, kissing his cheek. “You're the best.”

They settled back in their seats; the ride would take a little under two hours. Emma stared out the window, watching the countryside go by. It was winter so it wasn't as pretty as she suspected it would be in the summer, but there was a certain beauty to the fallow fields and bare trees. They passed several towns and villages; she spotted some quaint cottages and barns, evocative of another time. Killian watched her face carefully, secretly pleased at her rapt attention. He got out his sketchbook and started to doodle, a profile portrait of his love taking shape.

“Killian?”

“Yes, darling?”

“What kind of place do you want to live in? You know, when we move in together.”

He frowned. “I hadn't given the actual home much thought. Not until we know where we're going anyway. Have you thought about it, lass?”

She shrugged. “Not really.”

He saw the longing on her face. “I tell you what, love. You describe what your perfect home looks like and I'll draw it. Then we'll compare, yeah?”

She looked at him skeptically but nodded. Killian flipped to a clean page and waited for her. Emma curled her legs under her and laid her head on his shoulder. Thoughts swirled through her head. She'd imagined her perfect home so many times when she was little, when she still had hope her parents would find her. When she found a home with Ingrid, she'd given up on those dreams, instead embracing her reality. She loved the home she had with Ingrid, but it was a far cry from her little girl dreams.

She started to talk, to attempt to describe what she'd imagined as a child. A big yard with a fence, large oak tree in the front. Front porch with a swing. Pillars, she definitely wanted pillars. Maybe a turret? Or at least a well placed eve. Two floors, brick; she liked brick. It was solid, not easily knocked down. She even described some of the rooms, even though it wasn't what he asked for. Killian let her talk, relishing the unique and very private insight into his Emma. He didn't want to think about how many nights she'd imagined such a place, only to never have it realized. She deserved everything she wanted.

“Can I see it?” Emma asked when she ran out of words.

He handed her the sketch. “How did I do?”

Emma bit her lip, examining his sketch. It was very close to her haphazard description; she had to blink back tears. “It's perfect.”

Killian saw her glassy eyes and frowned. “Don't cry, love.”

She sniffed, shaking her head. “I'm not. It's just...do you think we can find a place like this?”

He wanted to give her the perfect home, suddenly wanted it so badly his chest hurt. “We can try. I promise you we'll try.”

Promises used to frighten her. But Killian always kept his promises. “But maybe not right way. I mean, it might better for after I pass the bar. Get a little more settled?”

It warmed his heart that she spoke so casually, as if there was no doubt they would be together years from now. He wanted a lifetime with her. “I think that's very wise, Emma. But I'm sure we can still find something suitable in the mean time.”

“Well, we know it needs a tub. I'm becoming addicted to those baths.”

He laughed. “Aye, I'm rather fond of them as well.”

She handed him back his sketchbook. “And a nice  _big_ shower. For things.”

“Ah yes, _things_.” The shower they'd shared at her apartment since fueled his fantasies. He let his fingers dance up her thigh; Emma inhaled sharply. “I do look forward to properly christening this new home, no matter where it is.”

Emma shivered, already imagining it. “Hmm, that sounds amazing.”

“We'll have my studio, your office. The kitchen. Living room.” With each room, he gave a gentle nuzzle to her cheek, lips brushing her skin. “The bedroom, of course. Perhaps a guest bedroom? Would you like that, lass?”

She groaned softly, heart stuttering against her ribs. His voice should be illegal. “You're a menace.”

“Only to you.” He kissed her lips sweetly, looking innocent. “So what she shall we do first when we arrive?”

It took her a couple of minutes to regain her composure. “I've obviously never been to York. Have you?”

“Years ago. But it's a good sized city. Has a medieval feel to it. But we could visit the castle and the cathedral.”

“A real Gothic cathedral?”

“Aye.”

“Elsa will be so jealous.”

Killian chuckled. “Well, that admittedly was not my intention, but yes. The building itself could be considered a work of art.”

“Good thing I'm dating an artist then,” Emma replied, smirking at him.

“Indeed it is, my love.” He kissed her, sucking gently on her lip. She sighed softly, ignoring the other travelers as she indulged in a long bone melting kiss.

They took a cab from the train station to their bed and breakfast, the Red Lion. The young lady behind the desk blatantly ogled Killian as they checked in; Emma made sure to make a show of holding his hand. Killian teased her about being jealous on their way to their room but she ignored him. Her annoyed mood lifted the moment they stepped into their room. It was a very nice suite, much nicer than she was expecting. It had a little sitting room in addition to the bedroom.

“Wow,” she said, tossing her bag on the fluffy bed.

“I thought we'd stay for a two or three days before moving on, perhaps longer if we're having a good time.”

“Can we do that?”

“We can do whatever you wish. I want us to have a good time here.”

“Where else were you planning on taking me?”

Killian flopped down on the bed beside her. “Well...perhaps Manchester? Or Liverpool? Stop in Oxford before returning to London. Our time is our own, as long as we are there to greet your mum. I swore to Liam we'd be there for that.”

“That sounds fair. Oh! Speaking of which, I have to send her some of the pictures I've taken. Do you mind if we hang out here for a bit before we go exploring?”

“Not at all, lass. You send your pictures and I'll get us settled.” He kissed her once quickly then snatched up their bags and headed for the bathroom. He unloaded toiletries and took stock of the towels and other supplies. He discreetly made a call to the front desk to get some more towels and some bath salts for the tub. He was already planning on a long soak when they returned from their day's exploring.

Emma fired up her laptop, calculating the time in Boston. It was three in the afternoon, which made it ten in the morning at home. Both Elsa and her mom were online; Emma smiled as she sent them messages. She uploaded her photos from her phone, putting together a folder of her favorites to send them. She was interrupted by a chime that told her a message was coming in.

_Hi honey! It sounds like you're having an amazing time. Molly sounds delightful; I can't wait to meet her. And Liam. How is Killian? I'm sure he's happy to be with his family again. I've talked to your aunts and they absolutely insist you both visit before school starts. If you want to stay in England until the last minute (and I wouldn't blame you) then I can convince them to introduce themselves to Killian another time. Helga is thrilled for you, as is Gerda. Don't be surprised if they ask Killian for one of his pieces. I showed them the photo of your ocean scene and they adored it. See you soon! Love, Mom_

Emma smiled as she read the message; it meant a lot that her aunts were predisposed to like her boyfriend. She replied, sending Ingrid the address for the photos. As she worked, she got another message from Elsa.

_Emma! I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me! I'm kidding, of course. First, I have to tell you that Anna demands to know when she is going to meet your mysterious artist. I have given her very little information and she's not very happy with me. So could you maybe send her something? I don't know how discreet you're still trying to be. I'm so jealous Killian is taking you to see the cathedral. I just looked up some pictures of it and I'm sure it'll be much more spectacular in person. Tell Killian I said hello. I'll see you when you get back, but stay in touch, okay? I miss you. Elsa_

Emma laughed and sent a special message to Anna, adding a picture of she and Killian on a busy London street. She though Anna would appreciate that. Then she replied to Elsa, assuring her friend that she'd call the first chance she got and dish on all the news.

“What's funny?” Killian asked, putting their bags in the little closet.

“Anna. She's very annoyed that she hasn't met you yet.”

“Remind me who Anna is?”

“Elsa's little sister.”

“Ah yes. Perhaps a souvenir will ease my way with the young lass?”

Emma grinned. “Well, it can't hurt. I was planning on bringing some things back anyway. But you really don't have anything to worry about. Anna will like you. Mom says my aunts are also anxious to meet you.”

“Yes, Ingrid alluded to them.”

“They're great. The three of them are very close, so having Ingrid's approval gives you a leg up. Plus she showed them that photo of my ocean view and they _loved_ it.”

Killian flushed, pleased. “That's very...kind of them.”

Emma shut her laptop and got up. She went over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Killian's automatically wound around her waist as he gazed down at her expectantly. “You're going to be a famous artist one day,” Emma said firmly, teasing the hair at his nape. “You're too talented to simply be a teacher, even though you're great at that too.”

Killian leaned down and brushed her lips with his reverently. “I happen to enjoy teaching.”

“I didn't say you had to _stop_ teaching,” she said, tracing the line of his throat. “But you should spend time on your art.”

“For the first time in many months, I actually do want to do that. I've told you this before, but you inspire me, love. I want to create things again. I can't thank you enough for that.”

Emma chewed on her lip, still amazed she could inspire anyone. She spent so many years believing she didn't matter, that the world simply forgot about her. And now her life was so full. A mother, good friends, a man who loved her for herself. She had a family and a home and it was all she'd  _ever_ wanted. She stood up on her toes and kissed him, slowly, reverently, telling him how much he meant to her without words.

* * *

“Careful, lass,” Killian said, helping Emma up.

“I got it.” She found her footing, adjusting her scarf. It was late afternoon when they left the Red Lion, so they had limited daylight. Killian suggested a sunset stroll along the ancient city walls and Emma readily agreed. The view was breathtaking, the city and the surrounding country shimmering in the setting sun. The weather had been good of late, more sun than clouds, which Killian assured her was unusual. But the sky was filled with reds, pinks and oranges as the sun approached the horizon and she had to get some pictures of it.

Killian indulged her, wanting to encourage this little artistic endeavor. Emma liked to claim she wasn't artistic, but she seemed to have an eye for photographs. She'd likely not consider that art but he did, so waited patiently whenever she claimed she needed a photo. She took several of them as well, bundled up in the coats, hats and scarves, noses and cheeks pink, smiling or making faces.

After their walk, they had dinner at a pub before doing some shopping. It was late by the time they returned, to the Red Lion, arm leaden with bags. Emma didn't even try to organize anything, far more interested in snuggling with her boyfriend. They soaked for a while in the bath, then Killian read aloud from one of the books he bought once they got to bed, his melodious voice gradually lulling her to sleep. He marked his place and switch off the light, joining her in peaceful slumber.

The next day was Emma's favorite day in England so far. They got up early, indulged in some lazy morning sex, then enjoyed a scrumptious breakfast. Killian teased her about wearing so many layers as they took a cab to the York Minster. Emma's jaw dropped as they climbed out...the building was stunning. She didn't have much experience with architecture but the sheer _size_ of the cathedral was breathtaking. She didn't even want to go in right away, content to walk around it and take it in. Killian just enjoyed watching her; he could practically see her mind working, processing everything. Emma was very intelligent; she thrived on having her mind engaged.

When they were ready to go inside, Emma got quiet, aware they were entering a holy place. She wasn't very religious but she could sense the history of the place. She and Killian joined one of the guided tours, walking through the sanctuary hand in hand. Killian enjoyed the stained glass windows, asking some pointed questions about them to their guide. The poor man got a bit flummoxed; Emma elbowed Killian discreetly, rolling her eyes. He just shrugged, unapologetic. Emma snagged some pictures, mentally making notes of things she wanted to tell Elsa.

They climbed the tower and got an even better view of the surrounding country as the wind whipped around them. Killian held her back as the rest of the group started back down, stealing a kiss before the returned inside. It was sweetly romantic and Emma couldn't help but return it.

After lunch, they visited York Castle. For Emma, this was even better than the cathedral because the castle site was also a place that housed jails and law courts in its long history. She devoured everything, museum displays, tours of the old jails, the history. Killian enjoyed Kirkgate, the recreated Victorian street; it was such a contrast to the castle ruins. He lost Emma temporarily as she wandered the gift shop, coming away with at least a half dozen books on the law related aspects of the place. She was engaged in an animated conversation with one of the curators, who gave her a list of some other books to examine. They wound up staying until the museum closed, leaving with a recommendation for dinner from Emma's new friend.

“Thanks for staying,” Emma said to him as they headed for the restaurant. “I know that's not your thing.”

“It was quite fascinating watching your mind work, lass. I'd never complain about that. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah. I had no idea there was so much law history there.”

“Then I'm glad we experienced it.” He kissed her temple, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Am I going to lose you to those books when we get back?”

Emma laughed. “Hey, I'm on vacation. I'm not _that_ obsessed.”

“I wouldn't say obsessed. You just know what you want. That's a very attractive quality.”

“Attractive, huh?”

“Aye. Maybe we should experiment with that some time.”

“I think I'd like that.”

“Oh, I'm sure you would, love.”

Emma thought about his comment a lot over the next couple of days. They did a little more exploring in York before moving on to Manchester. They settled into a new bed and breakfast; this one had a nice wooden desk in the sitting room. It gave Emma an idea. She mulled it over all day before broaching it with Killian late that night.

“Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. What's on your mind?”

“Um...” Suddenly she was thankful the lights were out so he couldn't see her blushing face. “How, I mean, I was wondering...how do you feel about role play?” She said it very fast, biting her lips as soon as the words were out. Being with him was opening up her sexuality but they rarely talked about it. Things just came up, like tying her to the bed. She _loved_ everything they did together, but she wasn't good with words.

Killian brushed his fingers over her arm, where she was curled into his side. He could sense her apprehension, perhaps some embarrassment? He wanted her to know they could talk about _anything_. “Well, I can't say I've ever done such a thing, but I think it could be...interesting.” He kissed her brow. “Did you have something in mind?”

“Just like that?” she asked incredulously.

“Emma, I trust you. If it would make you happy, then I am yours to command.”

She raised her head and kissed him swiftly. “I love you.”

“And I you. Now tell me what's going on in the pretty head of yours.” Emma giggled and told him, after which he tackled her to the bed and kissed her breathless. This was a request he was all too happy to indulge.

Emma was nervous the whole day, leading up to what she hoped would be an amazing evening. To heighten the experience, Killian went out on his own that day; the National Football Museum was in Manchester and he'd never been to it. Emma had very little interest in soccer—aside from needling her boyfriend about it—so she happily let him enjoy it while she got things ready in their room. She enjoyed a lazy day of relaxing and reading before preparing for their date. She bathed, washed and dried her hair, chose her wardrobe carefully. She wished now she'd taken Ruby's advice and gotten some fancy lingerie, but Killian liked whatever she wore. She chose a green lacy push up bra and matching boy shorts, cut to emphasize the curve of her ass. She slipped into a plain gray pencil skirt and silk blouse, dark blue, leaving the top couple of buttons open to tease her cleavage. Emma wound her long hair up into a clip and got out her old glasses to complete the professor look.

Once she was dressed, she arranged the sitting room, the wooden desk—free of clutter—for her and an end table converted into a makeshift desk for him. She found a wooden ruler in one of the drawers and laid it on her desk so he couldn't miss it.

Then she sat back to wait.

Killian tried to enjoy the museum, he really did. It was difficult to focus knowing Emma was back in their room preparing for her game. He'd been surprised when she suggested it but given how they met, he couldn't deny the appeal. Emma was very smart; he had no trouble seeing her as a professor. He was sure he would have no trouble being her willing wayward student.

He shouldered his bag as he got out of the cab. Anticipation buzzed under his skin as he approached their room; the game began as soon as he entered. He'd missed her in the hours apart. He had no idea how she'd spent her time; the game required no communication until he stepped through the door. Instead of walking right in, he knocked.

“Enter,” came Emma's muffled voice. Killian unlocked the door and stepped through it, swallowing heavily when he caught sight of her. His Emma was dressed perfectly, far too sexy in her little skirt and blouse, glasses perched on her nose. He itched to unbind her hair and comb his fingers through it while kissing her breathless. “You're late.”

He tried to look apologetic. “Apologies, Professor Swan.”

She looked almost bored. “Do you know why I've asked you here?”

He dropped his bag and shrugged out of his coat. “Not as such.”

She arched a bow at him. “So your grade means nothing to you?”

He shrugged. “What is it?”

Emma looked stern. “Sit.” Killian hurried to obey her, a jolt of arousal shooting down his spine. He _liked_ her taking charge. He sat and got out his sketchbook; it was subbing for a notebook. He had no intention of taking notes. “You are currently _failing_ this course, Mr. Jones.”

“Ah.”

Emma stood and strode around her desk, picking up the ruler and twirling it in her hands. “You're a bright student, Mr. Jones. When you bother to engage, your opinions are intelligent and thoughtful. So what do you think that doesn't translate into your grade?”

Killian licked his lips, drinking in her form. Emma was always sexy, but this was pushing _all_ of his buttons. “I'm not sure, Professor. Perhaps my heart isn't in the law.”

“And what is your heart in, Mr. Jones?”

He was eyeing the ruler in her hand, wondering if she'd use it on him. “Art,” he said quietly. “I'm an artist at heart.”

Emma tilted her head, considering him. She hadn't let herself observe him too closely when he left that morning, wanting his return to be a surprise. He was dressed in khakis and a sweater, so different from his usual jeans and vest. She liked it, the sweater stretching deliciously across his chest. She caught just a hint of tenting in his pants; she loved knowing she could arouse him like this. Slowly, she leaned over the little table, flashing a hint of of cleavage. “It seems you have a choice, Mr. Jones. You could drop this course and leave here right now.”

He tore his eyes away from her chest—Christ, she was wearing a push up bra—and looked into her eyes. “What's my other option, Professor?”

Good lord, she could feel his warm breath on her skin and it made her warm and tingly inside. “You could engage in some private lessons with me. Starting right now.”

“Now?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Jones. You're in a most _dire_ situation here.”

“What would these private lessons entail?”

“That, Mr. Jones, depends on you.” She straightened up and moved back behind her desk, swaying her hips as she went. She propped her stilettoed feet up on the desk and waited for his answer. It showed off her legs, something she knew Killian loved.

Killian's breathing hitched as he watched her; she knew exactly what she was doing, the minx. But he loved it. He wanted to see how far they could go. He found her eyes and nodded slowly. “Very well, Professor Swan. Private lessons it is.”

“I want you to be sure,” she said firmly. “I will demand a lot from you.”

He dug a pencil out of his bag. “I'm sure.”

“Very well.” Without further adieu she started her lecture, tapping the ruler for emphasis. As she warmed to her topic, she got up and started to move around the room; she could feel Killian's eyes on her. It sent shivers down her spine—the good kind. But she liked this feeling of control she had; she was in charge of what happened.

She slowly approached him from behind, intent on peeking over his shoulder. He wasn't taking notes. Not at _all._ The pages were filled with drawings of her. Some clothed, some nude, all of them erotic. Some of them included him; his dark head between her legs, her mouth open in an O of ecstasy, Emma riding him with her back arched gracefully, her clutching at him as he suckled at her breast. She inhaled sharply; she'd _asked_ for this, had _demanded_ it, but the result was even hotter than she expected. Her clit throbbed; she clenched her thighs together. She wet her lips and raised the ruler to lightly smack his shoulder.

“I think we've found our problem,” she purred in his ear.

Killian suppressed a moan; she hadn't hit him very hard but it was enough. “Problem, Professor?”

“Playing dumb now, Mr. Jones?” She smacked his hand with the ruler, then slid the edge of it down his spine. “You're too smart for that.”

He swallowed, his cock twitching in his pants. Fuck, he wanted her. “Perhaps I just want to hear you say it.”

She smacked him again, harder this time. He didn't even bother to hide how much he enjoyed it. “Is this how you see me?” She plucked one of the pages from the table, examining it closely. As always the likeness was uncanny; Killian mad long since memorized her body both with his eyes and his hands. She was deep in the throes of orgasm, a silent scream drawn on her lips. “Answer me, Jones.”

Her clipped tone gave away how aroused she was, but it just made Killian want her more. “You're a very beautiful woman,” he said softly. “It's...distracting.”

“So your lack of attention is _my_ fault?” she snapped.

“No, Professor Swan. It's entirely mine. Beauty like yours demands to be captured.”

Emma snatched his sketchbook, looking through the other sketches. “It's more than that,” she said seriously. She tapped the page of them locked in a passionate embrace with her ruler. “You want me.”

Slowly, Killian nodded. He wanted her so much he could almost taste her arousal on his tongue. He would do whatever she asked if she let him have her. Emma put down the sketchbook and leaned over. “You couldn't handle it,” she said with a smirk. She blew him a kiss and stood, moving to perch on her desk, legs crossed primly. Her boy shorts were soaked and she ached for him, but she wanted him to earn it.

Killian blinked, at a bit of a loss. What she did want from him? He adjusted himself, not missing the way her eyes dropped to his crotch. She wanted him just as much as he needed her. “A trade,” he bit out.

“A trade?” she echoed. “What do you think I want from you?”

Killian stood, moving to stand before her, metaphorical hat in hand. “Whatever you wish.”

Emma looped her ruler through his beltloop and tugged him closer. Her legs fell open so he could stand between them. She could feel the heat coming off him. “Anything?” she purred, drawing the ruler down his chest. “Use you for my pleasure? It's highly inappropriate, Mr. Jones.”

He fought to keep his hands at his sides. “Because your my professor?”

“Oh yes. Does that bother you?”

He shook his head. “No, Professor Swan. Should it?”

“I did say I would be demanding. I would expect a lot from you. Follow my commands to the _letter_.”

His cock twitched again, eager to do her bidding. “I can take it.”

“Oh, a willing plaything,” Emma murmured, reaching behind and swatting his ass with the ruler. “How can I turn that down?” She slipped the ruler into the pocket of his pants to be used later. Then she placed her hands on his hard chest. “Kiss me.”

Killian lowered his lips to hers, giving her the lightest brush. It ignited them both, as Emma mewled and dragged him back, practically mauling his lips. The kiss was aggressive and rough; Killian groaned into her mouth as his hands fell to her hips. She broke the kiss and offered her neck which Killian wasted no time tasting. Emma flicked open her silk shirt, exposing her chest, back arching. She brushed his chest with hers, nipples stiffening in her bra. Killian teased and licked his way over her collar, the silk smooth against his skin. “Bloody hell,” he breathed.

“Shirt. Off,” Emma commanded, fisting his sweater. Killian pulled away reluctantly and pulled the wool from his body, giving his professor her first glimpse of his body. “Well, aren't you a work of art.” She reached out, tracing his pecs and abs, nails scoring down his chest. She leaned in and pressed open mouthed kisses to his skin, nimble hands sliding down to his straining pants.

Killian groaned, hips rocking into her touch automatically. She palmed him roughly and he hissed. “Fuck.”

“Oh, we're definitely going fuck,” Emma said matter of factly, snatching back her ruler. “I'm not letting you go anytime soon.”

“Jesus,” Killian panted, gulping down air. He'd gotten glimpses of her aggressiveness before but this was an _insane_ turn on.

“On your knees, Mr. Jones.”

Killian dropped with almost indecent haste, pain lancing up his thighs as his knees hit the floor just a hair too hard. He ignored it, eager for her next command. “Push my skirt up, you know you want to.” She smirked, teasing him with open knees. She shivered as his large hands slowly pushed the material up her thighs, her legs falling farther open as he went. He kissed the inside of her thighs and she smacked his shoulder. “Did I give you permission?”

“No, Professor Swan.”

“Do you want to eat me out, Jones?” He nodded eagerly. Her clit throbbed in response. “Well then, get on with it. Don't stop until I've come at least twice. We'll see how talented that mouth of yours is.”

Killian bit his lip before nodding. He kissed a wet path up her thighs, his scruff rubbing deliciously on her flushed skin. He spread her wide with his hands before mouthing her through the fabric of her boy shorts. They were green, a similar shade to her eyes normally, but her pupils were blown completely, pure lust in her gaze. Right now she wasn't his Emma, she was the Professor, the seductress and he loved it.

He only paused long enough to strip the underwear from her body, skirt bunched around her thighs. The lace fell to the floor as he dove in, kissing her dripping flesh the way he did her lips. Emma keened, bracing herself on the desk, knees as wide as they would go. She was utterly exposed as he pleasured her, Killian on his knees before her. It was one of the more erotic experiences of her life and they were just getting started.

Killian lapped at her entrance, teasing it with his tongue, licking the length of her slit. She was lush and pink, delicate lips swollen. He kissed her bare mound briefly before returning to her clit, toying with the nub until she was panting, muttering curses and praise. Killian slid his hands under her ass, lifting her up as he ate at her, wanting to push her over the edge.

Emma's arms shook with the intensity of the pleasure; she swore Killian's mouth had magical powers. She screamed out her first climax, head thrown back as she bucked in his hands. Killian drank her down, taking everything she gave him. He loved her taste; he could happily remain between her thighs for hours. Killian brought her down, tongue still working her. Emma mewled, finally falling back against the desk. She'd asked for it and Killian planned on obeying her. Her head thrashed as he worried her clit between his teeth, coil tightening all over again. He fucked her with his tongue, plunging inside her hole, wet sounds filling the room. Emma cursed, filthy curses spilling from her lips as he brought her off again, lapping at her juices.

Prudently, Killian backed off, rolling back on his haunches as Emma panted. Her skin was coated in sweat but despite two amazing orgasms she wasn't sated. She wanted to _fuck_ him, to feel his long thick length hitting her deep, make her see stars.

Eventually, she sat up, a pleased smirk on her lips. “Well done, Jones. It seems you can pay attention when properly motivated.” She beckoned him with a crook oh her finger. “Stand up.”

Killian did so, curious about her next move. She stroked his hot skin, tugging him in close by the hips. She could see the lingering evidence of her orgasms on his lips and chin and it made her hot. She coaxed his lips to hers, kissing him passionately. She fumbled for her ruler, swatted his ass in those tight khakies, swallowing his deep groan.

“Did you like that?” Emma demanded, swatting him again. “Answer me, Jones.”

“Fuck yes,” he hissed, stealing a kiss from her lips. Unbidden he fondled her breasts, hoping to free them from the confines of her bra.

Emma momentarily got distracted, groaning as he pawed at her. But she snapped back to reality. “Stop. Now.” With a whine of complaint, Killian did, standing back a few inches and looking utterly wrecked. “I think you need reminding who's in charge here, Jones.”

“Aye, Professor.”

“Strip.” Killian obeyed, sighing once his cock was free. It was throbbing and red; Emma fought the urge to suck it between her lips. She was so lucky; Killian was a very fine specimen, and a fantastic lover. And he was giving her free reign with his body. She was in control. It was heady and made her clit throb. She hopped off the desk and shrugged out of her blouse. The silk fluttered to the floor as she cupped her own breasts, squeezing and kneading. “Is this what you wanted?”

Killian shook his head. “No, Professor.”

“It's not? You don't want your hands on my body?”

Bloody hell, she was good at this. His pants were around his ankles and he was trembling with need. “I only wish to pleasure you, Professor.”

“Good answer.” She smoothed down her skirt, and kicked at his pants. “Off. Then bend over the desk.”

Killian kicked off his khakis—he would never be able to wear them again without getting hard—and bent over. He groaned as Emma squeezed his bare ass, kneading the firm flesh, spreading his cheeks. She licked her lips; fuck, he had a spectacular ass. She reached between his legs and cupped his balls, played with his cock. She was getting wet again, turned on by his willingness to let her play. She stroked his cock firmly, earning a pleased groan from his lips. “Oh god.”

“You are going to feel so good inside me,” Emma purred, squeezing him lightly. “Perhaps we'll act out one of your drawings, hmm? Would you like that, Jones?”

“Fuck yes.” Emma swatted one of his cheeks with the wooden ruler; it left a sharp sting. “Professor!” he cried.

“Much better.” She brought the ruler down hard on his backside; it wasn't very heavy so the blows were more teasing than painful but he still relished it. Maybe next time they could experiment with something more substantial. Just thought of her disciplining him properly was enough to bring him perilously close to the edge.

Emma backed off as abruptly as she began, Killian's fine ass a light pink. Seeing him like this did things to her; he was so virile and masculine, the fact that he trusted her like this was intensely arousing. She also wanted him to return the favor and spank her sometime. She tossed the ruler aside and started to knead the abused flesh, earning her another sexy moan. “God, I need a good fuck,” she said, kissing up his back. “Can you give me that, Jones? Ease my...frustration?”

Jesus Christ, he'd let her ride him until hell froze over if she stopped fucking teasing. “Yes. I'll make you feel so good, Professor.”

“Good.” She gave his cock another little squeeze. “Up on the desk, on your back.” As he hastened to obey her, she unzipped her wrinkled skirt and shimmied out of it. Killian watched hungrily as the rest of her creamy pale skin was exposed, her bra joining their clothes on the floor. He didn't dare touch himself even though he was as hard as he'd ever been in his life; she hadn't given him permission. And he wanted her to use his body. He wanted her to pleasure herself with his cock.

He would forever be beholden to this woman; she was his everything.

Emma saw him watching her; she casually slipped her fingers between her legs, sighing as she rubbed herself. She was hot and slick, aching to be filled. She brought her hand up to her lips and held out her fingers for him to lick clean. “Taste.” Killian sucked eagerly, relishing the way her eyes fell closed. She was very aroused, skin flushed, chest heaving, cunt dripping. He needed to just fuck her already.

Emma bit her lip, regaining her fragile composure before climbing up on the desk. She spun away from him, showing him her back. “Don't come,” she ordered, lowering her hips and sliding her slickness over his cock. “I'll let you know when you can come, Jones.”

“Y-y-yes, Professor,” he replied in a shaky voice. He wasn't sure he could do it; he needed release from this torment. He blew out a breath as she rose up and positioned him at her entrance. They both moaned loudly as she impaled herself on his cock, her walls stretching to accommodate him. She was beyond ready for him; he slid in easily, every thick inch.

“Fuck, so good, Jones,” Emma muttered, bouncing a bit on his cock. She unbound her hair and shook it out, moving sinuously in his lap. She fucked him slowly, his cock hitting the perfect angle inside her.

Killian let out a strangled groan; watching her was driving him mad. To say nothing of the scorching heat that surrounded his cock. Tentatively, he reached out and caressed her ass and hips, so happy she didn't scold him. In fact, she moaned happily, covering his hands with her own. She increased her pace, eager to come on his cock. “Tell me how this feels, Jones.”

Killian grunted, desperately trying to keep his hips still. If he moved, he would have no hope of stopping his orgasm. “Hot,” he bit out. “So fucking hot, Professor. Better.”

“Better than what?” She reached down to circle her clit, the pressure building, her body tight as a bow string.

“Better...fuck...better than I dreamed.”

Emma mewled, circling her hips, rubbing herself harder. “You dreamed about fucking your professor. Naughty boy.” She slammed down one last time and detonated, colors bursting behind her closed eyes. She fluttered around his cock; she almost wouldn't have minded if he'd followed her, the pleasure was that amazing. Killian gritted his teeth, willing himself to hold on. Emma went still, breathing hard, her whole body tingling with the force of her orgasm.

And the best part was he was still hard as a rock within her.

She whimpered as she eased off him, keenly feeling the loss of him. They simply fit together too well; it was no wonder they were always pawing at each other. She'd never known this kind of desire before meeting him. “You managed to obey, good boy,” she whispered, stepping up to kiss his sweaty brow. “I promise it'll be worth it.” She kissed his lips, squealing in approval as he took control of the kiss and stole her breath. Oh yes, she would definitely enjoy this when they switched. She broke the kiss with a gasp and looked down at his cock. It still glistened with her copious arousal. “What have you imagined, Jones? Me sucking you off? Taking me over the desk?”

He nodded. “Aye, Professor. Eating you out under the desk while you lecture, tasting you come on my tongue.”

“Is my naughty boy an exhibitionist?”

Considering all the places they'd had sex, he felt like he could safely say he had an element of that. “Maybe a little.”

“Hmm, I like that, Jones.” She strode down and stood between his spread legs. “I like this too.” She lowered her head and licked him from root to tip, tasting herself. Killian moaned hoarsely unable to control his hips. He rocked into her, desperate for relief from the ache in his groin. Deftly, she took him between her lips, sucking lightly on the engorged head. Killian roared, trying to fuck her mouth. She sucked and licked until he was clean, releasing him with a soft pop. “You're trembling.”

He collapsed against the desk, still painfully aroused. She was going to kill him with sex; he could feel it. “N-n-need to come, Professor,” he panted. “So bad.”

She kissed the tip of his cock, licking the precum that leaked from the slit. “Do want to come inside me, Jones? Tell me you do.”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Want to feel you around me, Professor. So hot and tight.”

Fuck, she was soaked again, seeing him so needy and utterly wrecked. “So do it. Bend me over this desk and _fuck me,_ Jones,” she said in a dangerous voice.

He moved so fast it was a blur; one minute she was staring him down, the next he was forcing her against the top of the desk and nudging her entrance with his cock. She cried out in approval as he shoved roughly inside, wasting no time, taking her with hard deep strokes. Killian bent over her back, growling into her ear. Emma turned her head awkwardly and gave him a sloppy needy kiss, urging him on, screaming when he found her g spot. Killian grabbed her hips and pumped into her, almost wild.

“Oh god, I'm gonna...fuck, I'm gonna come again,” Emma exclaimed. “Need you, Jones. Come for me.”

Permission at last! He reached between them and pinched her clit, triggering both their orgasms. He pulsed deep within her, coming and coming and coming; it felt like it would never end. Emma clawed at the desk, nails digging into the wood, as she shattered, screaming his name, his _real_ name. Killian went still, draped across her damp back, utterly spent. It was by far the best sex either of them had ever had.

Eventually, the world came back into focus, muscles twinging from exertion. Killian stood up first, brushing a kiss to the small of Emma's back before hurrying to the bathroom. He came back with a damp washcloth, easing her onto her back so he could clean her up. Her thighs were sticky, her flesh swollen and abused. She moaned softly as he cleaned her as carefully as he could. “Sorry, love,” he whispered.

“'S okay,” she mumbled, stretching out like a cat. She felt used, sated, but in the best way. It had been an incredible experience. She missed him when he went back to the bathroom; all she wanted now was to cuddle. And sleep.

“Think you can make it to the bed?” Killian asked when he returned. He plucked her glasses from her face; she was mildly surprised they were still on. “These were very sexy by the way.” He waved them at her, grinning like a fool.

“I never thought of them like that before,” Emma said honestly. “It just seemed...appropriate.”

She looked weak as a kitten after four intense orgasms, so Killian picked her up and carried her to the bed. Emma nuzzled his neck, inhaling the scent of sweat, sex and Killian. It was one of her favorite scents. “Easy there, lass.”

“You smell good.”

He chuckled. “If you say so.” He tucked her in, going to shut off the overhead light before joining her. “Are you sleepy?”

“A little. But I'm good for a little while yet.”

He lay on his side, facing her. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“About the incredible sex we just had?”

He grinned. “Aye. You seemed to enjoy it. A little too much.”

“Like you didn't.”

“I loved every sodding second; you were a force to behold.”

“Even when I spanked you?”

He nodded. “Your fire is one of the reasons I fell in love with you. You took to that like a duck to water, love.”

“I'd never done it before.”

“I gathered as much. But you just had to be yourself. Forceful and firm. I like it.” He brushed some hair behind her ear. “And I love you, Emma. Just as you are.”

She smiled before leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “Can we try it again sometime? Maybe with you?”

“If you wish. I have enjoyed tying you up.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe next time I'll gag you.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Wanna bet?”

He pouted. “But then you can't hear me beg. Or scream for you. Professor.”

Emma shivered, pressing herself closer and kissing him deeply. “I look forward to it, Jones.” She was still giggling when he turned out the remaining light, so happy that this got to be her life.

 


	25. Chapter 25

“Do you see her yet?” Emma asked, standing on her toes. The crowd at the Heathrow arrivals gate was insane, two days before Christmas. Emma spoke to her mother before she got on the plane in Boston; she and Killian were in Oxford. One last stop before returning to London for the holiday. It had been an incredible week alone with her boyfriend, but she was excited to see her mother. And a little nervous. The prospect of having their families under the same roof was a bit daunting.

“Not yet,” Killian replied for the fifth time. He was taller than her, of course, not that it gave him much of an advantage in the throng. It hadn't been this busy when they arrived nearly two weeks ago. Ah, the holidays.

“I hope there wasn't a problem.”

“Board says her flight was on time, darling. Perhaps she's still getting her bags?”

Emma squeezed his hand. “I'm sure you're right. I'm just...”

“Nervous?” Killian chuckled. “Now why ever would you be nervous?”

“It's a big deal...our families spending the holiday together. Isn't it?”

“I'm hoping it's the first of many, lass. Perhaps we can host next year.” She looked at him with wide eyes. That was a responsibility she hadn't even considered. “I'm only jesting. I wouldn't mind making London an annual trip, eh?”

Emma exhaled. “Yeah, I'd like that.” She kissed his cheek. “How about we have my mom over for Thanksgiving?”

He smiled down at her; she'd come so far from the walled off woman he met just a few months ago. This was her way of meeting him halfway and he loved her for it. “Do you actually know how to make a turkey, love?”

She scowled and smacked his chest. “I've got almost eleven months to figure it out, haven't I?”

“I'd never let you face such a task alone. We'll do it together.”

If there wasn't a crowd of strangers around them she'd have kissed the smug smirk off his face. But she secretly liked it. Instead, she nudged him with her hip, leading to Killian wrapping her up in a bear hug and planting a firm smacking kiss to her lips anyway. Emma playfully struggled, pretending to be cross with him. But they both knew the truth.

“Still the most adorable couple,” a bemused feminine voice cut into their bubble.

Emma settled down, looking toward her mother, cheeks on fire. “Um, hi, Mom.”

Killian cleared his throat. “Hello, Ingrid. Let me take your bags.” Fortunately, the older woman didn't have much but it gave mother and daughter a chance to hug.

“I've missed you,” Ingrid said, hugging Emma tight.

“Me too, Mom.”

“How was your flight?” Killian asked, adjusting his grip on Ingrid's larger suitcase.

“Long. Uneventful. They showed that new dinosaur movie, I think? What was it called?”

Emma laughed. “ _Jurassic World_?”

“That's it.” Emma and her mom walked arm in arm, Killian following out to where Liam's SUV was waiting. “I think it might be colder here than in Boston!”

“They think we may have a white Christmas,” Killian said, fishing out Liam's keys. His brother had been very specific about driving his car. Killian did not want to deal with a lecture at Christmas. He popped the back hatch, then tossed Emma the keys. “You ladies get warm and I'll load the luggage.”

“So how's your trip been?” Ingrid asked, as Emma started the car and turned on the heat. “Those are some spectacular pictures you've been sending, Emma.”

“I've got more. Killian thinks I've got an eye for photography.” She just thought he was humoring her, not that she minded. Taking pictures was fun. And she didn't want to forget a moment of this trip. It was magical in a way she'd never believed possible.

“I'm sure he does,” Ingrid said with a smile. She was still pleasantly surprised at the change in Emma since the summer. There was still so much of the lost little girl Ingrid had taken in, but the girl in front of her was a passionate, talented young woman, so in love with her Killian that she seemed to have stars in her eyes. It made Ingrid happy and sad all at once. But definitely more on the happy side. Emma deserved to be happy.

Killian climbed in the driver's seat. “Not too long of a drive to my brother's townhouse,” he said to Ingrid. “I imagine you'd like to get settled?”

“What time is it here?”

Emma laughed. “It took me a while to get used to it. It's nearly eight in the evening, Mom. Hungry? Maybe we can stop at that pub down the street? Or the Indian place? Mom, they have the best Indian food; you need to try it.”

“Let her breathe, love,” Killian said with a laugh. “Plenty of time to go exploring. Ingrid, if you _are_ hungry, my sister in law would be more than happy to make something.”

“Oh, I couldn't put her out like that, not this late! But Indian food sounds good.”

“Lass, ring Liam, let him know we'll be a tad late returning his vehicle. He likes you.”

Emma rolled her eyes but fished Killian's phone from his pocket and called Liam to explain their detour. He made his typical grumbling noises but Emma was learning to read his moods. They would be fine as long as the car was returned by bedtime. Liam had the next week off from his job; Emma gathered that Christmas was a big deal for the Jones household. With the baby on the way and Emma, Ingrid and Killian visiting, Liam had some things planned for them to, aside from dinner and presents on Christmas day.

Emma and Ingrid got caught up over Indian food with Killian observing quietly. They talked about all the places Emma had seen; she was in her element. When Emma let someone in, she was warm and giving; it truly was a privilege. Killian didn't intend on taking that for granted. When they returned to the townhouse, Killian once again shouldered the bags as Emma led Ingrid inside.

They found Molly and Liam in the living room, watching TV, drinking hot chocolate. “Hey guys.”

“Emma!” Molly stood, hastily setting down her mug. “And you must be Ingrid! It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma's told us so much about you.” Liam hung back a little, letting the ladies get acquainted.

Ingrid smiled. “Molly, I presume?” The two ladies hugged like they were old friends; Emma did a silent exhale. She had a feeling they would get along, but seeing it definitely eased her mind. “How is the little one?”

Molly beamed. “Just fine. We saw the doctor earlier this week. We're having a little girl.”

“Emma! You never said!” Ingrid accused.

“I've been busy! Off touring the country and stuff, sheesh. I'm not the pregnant one.”

Killian returned from putting Ingrid's things in the other guest room. Far away from theirs thankfully. “Still at it?” he asked his brother.

“Aye. I haven't had the privilege yet.”

“You're afraid,” Killian said slyly.

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are. Your thumb's twitching. It's your tell, Liam. Learned that when I was ten years old.”

“I do not have a tell.”

“Don't ever play poker, brother.” He cleared his throat. Loudly. “Ingrid? Have you met my brother yet?”

“No! Sorry. Liam, is it?”

Liam's ears turned pink. Given the way Liam first met Emma, Killian thought he had good cause to be nervous. He'd said some awful things to Ingrid's daughter. But he and Emma had mended fences. “Aye. It's good to finally meet you, Ingrid.” They shook hands, Ingrid's blue eyes twinkling with mirth. She didn't hold a grudge, as long as Emma was happy.

“Thank you for letting me stay with you. It's very generous.”

“We're happy to have you. It's nice, having the house filled with family.”

Molly wrapped an arm around her husband's waist. “It really is. Please make yourself at home, Ingrid.”

“I'm sure we'll all have a wonderful time together.”

Liam looked at the clock. “Perhaps we should call it a night? I'm sure Ingrid's tired from her flight.”

“Liam and I are making brunch tomorrow, if you want to sleep in,” Killian added, winking at Emma. “Then we can go to Winter Wonderland.”

“What's that?” Emma asked.

“You'll see.”

“I'm intrigued,” Ingrid said. “But definitely tired.” Emma offered to take her to her room. “Is Liam always that...stiff?”

Emma smirked. “No. I don't think he was sure what kind of reception he was going to get.”

“Well, that's just silly. Unless he burns brunch tomorrow.”

“Killian will save him.”

“Good looking _and_ he cooks? Hang on to that one, dear.”

Emma nodded. “I intend to.”

* * *

Brunch wasn't the disaster Ingrid expected. In fact, the Jones brothers acquitted themselves quite well in the kitchen. The ladies sat the island counter, sipping tea and chatting, as the boys cooked. It was obvious Killian was the better cook, but Liam made a very good batch of French toast. It was a nice relaxed way to get to know each other better; Molly surprised everyone by asking Emma for a couple of her photos to hang in the nursery.

The ladies then spent another hour in said nursery before the group piled into Liam's SUV. Emma and Killian had to sit in the back with Ingrid, which was only a little awkward. They'd gotten used to being affectionate in front of Liam and Molly, but Ingrid was her mother. A little circumspection was required.

“So where are we headed?” Emma asked.

“Winter Wonderland, lass. In Hyde Park.”

“You'll love it,” Molly assured them. “There's ice skating and little shops and an observation wheel. I've been every year and there's always something new to see.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ingrid said.

They found a place to park and walked the rest of the way. It was cold, iron gray clouds covered the city; Emma secretly hoped the did have a white Christmas. Even if they didn't she suspected this would be the best Christmas of her life, surrounded by people who loved her. She and Killian walked hand in hand, taking in the sights and smells of the park. It would be very pretty in the springtime, but she liked the ice rink and lights and bustling shops and restaurants. The lights were already on despite the time of day; it lent to the Christmas vibe. There were people of all ages enjoying the space; Emma wasn't sure what to do first.

“Can you skate?” Killian asked, next to her ear.

Emma shrugged. “I've never actually done it before.”

“Roller skate, perhaps?”

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“We'll just have to teach you then.” He addressed their little group. “Who's up for some skating?” Everyone agreed that skating was a great idea and they went to get some skates from one of the vendors. Emma sat on a bench replacing her boots with ice skates, glancing skeptically at the thin blades. “You're gonna do just fine, love,” Killian assured her. “And if not, I'll be there to catch you.”

Emma rolled here eyes. “Maybe I'll catch you.”

“Should we lay a wager?”

“It's not a wager if you know the outcome.”

“Very well. We'll let you get your feet under you, _then_ we'll wager.”

“What does the winner get?”

He leaned in close to her so no one could overhear. “Choice on our next sexual escapade?”

Emma flushed and it wasn't due to the cold. Her mother was like five feet away! “Deal.” She wobbled the moment she tried to stand, but true to his word, Killian was there to steady her. Ingrid skated as a girl with her sisters so she was happily skating slow rings around them as Killian helped Emma on the ice.

“Slow and steady there,” he murmured. “Push off gently, hold on to my hand, yeah?”

Emma swallowed, trembling a bit from nerves and the chill. “Okay.” She tried to push off like he said, but it was harder than it looked. “Ugh!”

“Here try standing,” Killian said patiently. He would never pass up a chance to be close to her or touch her. He skated around behind her, arms sliding around her waist. “Feel the balance, don't fight gravity too much.”

Emma sighed; didn't he know how difficult it was to focus with his rough voice in her ear like that? It made her want to say the hell with skating in favor of stripping him naked and licking him all over. She bit her lip as he moved them over the ice, hands tight on her hips. She could feel the heat of him through their coats. “Move your feet, sweetheart,” he said softly, lips brushing her ear.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, making a greater effort to actually participate.

“I think I know what you're thinking and I very much approve. I'll make it worthwhile later, lass.”

“Promises, promises.”

“After all this time you doubt me?”

She smirked, turning awkwardly to face him. “So teach me, professor.”

He growled softly and proceeded to do just that, skating with her, instructing, until she could try it on her own. She wobbled a bit, but just as he promised she did start to get her legs under her. It didn't take much longer for her to skate fairly decently on her own. The two couples got into an impromptu game of tag with another, leaving Ingrid to referee. They laughed and played until Molly was winded, Liam taking his wife off for something warm to drink. Ingrid bowed out too, leaving Emma and Killian alone.

“You've become quite the student,” Killian purred in her ear when they were alone.

“I had a good teacher.” She grabbed his hand and skated off, dragging Killian with her. He pretended to huff and puff but Emma knew better. She screeched as Killian spun her around, faster and faster, until she was dizzy and staggering. She almost fell but, of course, he caught her. They did take a tumble, but Killian bore the brunt of it, landing with a heavy oomph.

“You...are...crazy,” Emma puffed, smacking his chest, vision still blurry from spinning.

“But you still love me?”

She smiled down at him, blowing some hair out of her face. “Of course I do, babe.” She tried to kiss him but missed; she was still a little dizzy. Killian just laughed and adjusted her aim, kissing her slowly in the middle of the rink as dozens skated around them.

Her nose and cheeks were bright pink from both the cold and exertion, so they went to put their shoes back on and find their family. They were nestled in a small coffee shop, holding steaming mugs and munching on muffins. Emma got some coffee and muffins for she and Killian, shooing him away when he tried to pay. He'd been far too generous to her on this trip; she was determined to by  _coffee_ . It was vacation, so she accepted him spoiling her with (mostly) good grace, but when they lived together she was going to pull her own weight.

“I was hungry so I got a couple different ones,” she said, sliding in next to Killian. “But we can share.”

“You're an angel,” Killian sighed, diving into one of the muffins.

“You'd think you didn't eat three hours ago,” Molly joked, eating a cookie.

“Exercise,” Killian replied, mouth partially full. “Hard work out there.”

“Aye, because you're an exercise _fiend_ ,” Liam deadpanned. He looked at Ingrid. “I had to drag this one out to football practice with me. Mum wasn't too pleased.”

“Because she knew I'd rather be drawing,” Killian countered, swallowing. “You were the athlete.”

“Funny, I don't hear Emma complaining,” Liam shot back, unapologetic. Emma flushed; she _was_ very fond of the results from Killian's workouts but she knew he didn't do them for her. Did he?

“I might have picked up a _few_ habits from my big brother,” Killian conceded.

“I tried to get Emma to try out for track in high school, but she likes to run alone,” Ingrid said, smiling at Emma.

“You run?” Killian said, surprised.

“I've gotten out of the habit a little between two jobs and school work,” she replied, glancing at him knowingly.

“Perhaps we could run together.”

Emma nodded. “I'll have more time this semester; I'd like that.” She wanted to make some time for her friends her final semester; with her lighter class load, that should be much easier than it had been. Although, admittedly, she  _had_ made time to get herself a boyfriend. Priorities.

“What classes are you taking in the spring, Emma?” Ingrid asked.

“Mostly electives to round out my credit hours. Finishing up Spanish too.”

“There might a spot in one of the photography classes,” Killian said casually.

Emma smiled fondly. “I don't know, I kinda like keeping that to myself.” Besides, if it was “art” then she'd much rather share it with him.

“Just mentioning it as an option,” he reminded her, nudging her shin with his foot.

“You get Spring Break, yeah?” Liam asked.

“Aye, in March.”

“I'll be big as a house then, Liam, do not ask them to come!” Molly cried.

“And you'll be beautiful,” her husband countered. “What's wrong with a visit?”

“Well, I was thinking we'd be house hunting,” Killian explained. “Or at least scouting, right, love?”

Emma frowned. “I might have some news by then. Depends on the school. I got in the second round of submissions instead of the first.”

“You'll have no trouble,” he assured her, kissing her temple. “I just thought with your internship, we'd start looking. Unless...”

“Unless what?”

“We go to a beach?”

Her eyes lit up. It had been so long since she'd been to the beach and she could think of no one else she'd rather go with. “I like that idea.”

“You'd rather go to the beach than visit your brother?” Liam cried, feigning hurt.

“Let them have fun,” Molly scolded. “They've earned it.” Liam made some vaguely grumbling noise, but everyone ignored him. Killian knew his brother was only taking the mickey. They'd spend some quality time together after Christmas. And now that their hurt feelings were out in the open, Killian hoped they'd become closer, despite the physical distance between them when he and Emma returned home.

Home. That word had certainly taken on new meaning for him in the last several months. Being back in London—as much as he enjoyed seeing his family—only reinforced that. London wasn't home anymore. He would always be fond of it, would want to see Liam and Molly and their little one. He'd been raised there. But it also carried many painful memories. However, even his house wasn't home. It was just a place he lived, a roof over his head. It didn't start to feel like a _home_ until Emma began spending so much time there. He missed her when she wasn't there; the house felt empty, hollow. Perhaps it had before and he'd been too blind to see it? Whatever the case, Killian looked forward to them seeking out a new home of their own. The physical dwelling was an afterthought. It was sharing it with the woman he loved that made it special.

They spent a couple more hours shopping and riding the observation wheel. But Liam wanted to let Molly rest before they attended the midnight service at the church, so they headed back to the townhouse. Liam looked like he'd rather go to the gallows than attend, but it was a compromise with Molly's parents (well, her father) who were less than pleased to be sharing their daughter's time with Liam's family. Killian wasn't interested in going anyway; he hadn't gone to church in years. He'd lost interest after his mother's death.

After a light dinner, Molly napped while the others chatted downstairs, Killian, Emma and Ingrid adding their presents to the pile under the pretty tree. Ingrid insisted on taking pictures of the couple in front of the tree, then Killian insisted on a mother/daughter photo. As Liam was cleaning up the kitchen, Killian slipped Emma a small wrapped box.

“What's this?” Emma asked, curious brow raised.

“I know gifts are tomorrow, but I wanted to give you this away from prying eyes,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Of all his gifts for her, this one was the one he was concerned about. She would no doubt think it was cheesy, but he couldn't resist.

“Okay,” Emma said slowly. She untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful blown glass ornament of a swan. She gasped, hand shaking it a little. It was so fragile, she was afraid she'd break it.

“There's an etching on the side,” Killian said quietly.

Emma turned the swan carefully, finding it on the left side. It read, _E &K, Christmas, 2015._ She felt tears burn her eyes, but she blinked them away. Happy tears or not, she wanted to hold it together. “It's gorgeous,” she whispered. “Thank you.” She looked up at him, wanting to hug him but terrified of ruining her gift. “Shall we put it on the tree?”

“It's coming home with us,” Killian reminded her, “but aye.” Together they found a spot near the top, nestling the delicate swan among the branches. “Perfect.”

Emma did hug him then, unbelievably touched by his gift. “Anything I give you will seem terribly lame after this,” she joked, kissing him soundly.

“Nonsense. Every minute I spend with you is a gift all by itself.”

“Such a sap.”

“Only for you, love.” They returned to the telly, saying good night to Molly and Liam as they left. Ingrid turned in not long after; she was going to help Molly cook Christmas dinner, at her own insistence. Emma and Killian stayed up a little longer, curling together on the couch to watch one of the many versions of _A Christmas Carol_.

“The book is okay,” Emma observed toward the end, “but I like watching it better.”

“Why's that, love?” Killian knew Emma loved to read.

“Well, Dickens got paid by the word, right? He just was a bit overzealous with them.”

Killian laughed, a full blown belly laugh. “I'd never thought of it that way, but I suppose you're right.”

“Good fodder for English teachers, I guess.”

“Have you learned any new words?”

Emma tilted her head, thinking. “Git. Ponce. Berk. Telly. Chuffed? Knackered. Blimey. Tosser. Go spare. Probably more but those are the ones I remember.”

“They sound so strange in your flat American accent, love,” he said, chuckling.

“Perhaps I should start talking like you?” she replied, doing a truly awful imitation of his accent.

“No, no, let's keep your lovely voice the way it is.” He kissed her to silence her protest and she melted, keenly aware that they had the living room to themselves. They made out until the TV switched itself off, long forgotten. “I think it's time for bed.”

“Already?”

“It's after midnight, lass. I'm sure Molly and Liam will be home shortly.”

“Right.” They headed to their room, going through their nightly routine as quietly as possible. Ingrid was down the hall, hopefully fast asleep. “How's your bum?” Emma asked as they got into bed.

He cocked a brow at her. “Are you asking to inspect it, love?”

“You offering?” Killian didn't even blush; he just rolled on his side and yanked his plaid sleep pants down. Emma skimmed her fingertips over it; there wasn't even a bruise to show he'd fallen. Still, she pressed her lips to it. “Better?”

"Perhaps.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Let's get some sleep, Casanova.”

“I did make you a promise earlier,” he reminded her, hiking up his pants and turning to face her.

“Yeah, but what I was thinking requires an empty house,” Emma said slyly.

“Planning on being loud, lass?”

“Among other things.”

He kissed her sweetly before pulling the blankets up to cover them. “Then you should hold that thought.”

Emma sighed at his arms came around her. “Definitely.”

_She was positioned on the chair, Killian twisting her nude form into a provocative pose, legs spread, arm tied to the back, making her chest jut out. She squirmed, not because she didn't trust him, but because he was teasing her. His long fingers flitted over every sensitive place, mouth hot on her nipples until they were pebbled and hard. He wanted to paint her aroused, aroused and aching for him; she'd agreed embarrassingly quickly._

_She loved being his muse._

“ _Just focus on me, darling,” he murmured, cupping her sex. “Then I'll give you what you want.”_

_Emma nodded, biting her lip as she watched him work. Unlike that very first time he'd sketched her in his studio, this was no holds barred; she was naked and bound, insanely turned on, he touched himself as he worked, groaning in pleasure._

“ _So beautiful,” he whispered, relishing her hungry gaze. He smirked at her, still pulling loosely on his cock. “All mine.”_

_Emma squirmed again, another rush of wetness leaking out of her. She wondered if he could make her come like this, just his gravelly voice as she watched him masterbate. “Fuck,” she cursed, hips rocking against the air._

Killian woke up to Emma's soft sounds...was she  _moaning?_ In about half a second, his cock stood at attention, recognizing those sounds. She made those sweet sounds when she was frustrated and wanting, begging for his touch. Yet, she appeared to be fast asleep. She was dreaming...about him? After all this time, he hoped he was the only man invading her dreams. Her oversized shirt had ridden up under the blanket; it was twisted around her midsection. She'd stolen the blankets again; Killian had to work to loosen them. “Oh,” she moaned softly.

Killian wondered what he was doing to her dreamself to make that glorious sound. He rolled on his back and rubbed his cock through the fabric of his pants. It only teased him, but it felt good. He could let her sleep, masterbate to the sounds of her dream, but where was the fun in that? If Emma was aroused then he was more than happy to take care of her. He ducked under the blanket, easing her legs apart. One sniff told him she was soaked; it was a very good dream then. Featherlight, he kissed the inside of her thighs, moving higher and higher until he could lick her from back to front. He didn't stop, just kept licking, teasing her clit with his tongue, slowly bringing her to wakefulness.

Emma sighed, spreading her legs farther, giving him more access to her needy flesh. It felt so good; her dreams never  _quite_ captured the way her heart raced when Killian ate her. It took her a few toe curling flicks of his warm tongue to realize that she was no longer in her dream, a gasp clawing at her throat. “Killian?”

“I do hope it was I in your dream,” he replied, voice muffled by the blanket.

Emma threw it off; sure enough his dark head was sinfully between her thighs. “Always,” she said sleepily. “Don't stop.”

“I wasn't planning on it.” His mouth descended again; he knew her body so well, he didn't need light. He knew her better than himself, lips and tongue moving over her lovingly. Emma fisted his hair, so glad he woke her up. She had to bite her lip as the pleasure mounted; it was late, the rest of the house was asleep. They had to be quiet, which added a thrill. “God, I love your taste, sweetheart,” he muttered, the vibrations going through her. Emma moaned, thrusting against his face.

“Fuck, more,” she hissed. She crushed the pillow under her head, needing some kind of outlet as she barreled toward orgasm. She nearly screamed when he pressed three fingers inside her fluttering core, mouth fused to her clit. He could feel her trembling, her climax very close. He scraped his teeth over her sensitive nub and she went off, face buried in the pillow, muffling her cry.

He eased her down slowly, his own hips rocking against the mattress. He needed to feel her squeeze him, taste the salt on her skin as she fell apart for him. “Need you, lass,” he whispered.

Emma grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her. “Me too,” she whispered breathlessly. She somehow found his lips in the dark, kissing him passionately, fingers grabbing his t-shirt. He mauled her breast with his hand as she fumbled with his pants. They managed to get them off in a tangle of limbs, Killian hauling her against his chest.

“Tell me what you were dreaming, darling,” he growled, lifting her leg. His chest was hot against her back but it just made her burn hotter. She was addicted to the way he needed her.

Emma whined with impatience, grinding her ass against his hard cock. “Us...you were...painting me.”

“Hmm, I love it already,” he murmured, biting on her earlobe. “What else?”

Emma reached behind her, fingers diving in his hair. “I was...naked, tied to a chair...fuck, it was so good.”

“Made you so hot, lass,” he whispered, gliding his cock through her wetness, teasing them both. “You were hot and slick, still are. Bloody hell, I can't get enough of you.”

She turned her head, kissing him wetly. “You were touching yourself...need you,  _please_ .”

“Fuck, I love when you beg for me,” he hissed, rearing back and sliding home. They both let out a strangled cry, hands entwined as he took her. Emma bit her lip; she felt so _full_ , his cock hitting her just right. She shivered, rocking back against him, needing everything he could give her. It didn't matter how often they made love; it made her feel alive.

There was no better place than his arms.

“That's it, Emma,” he said in her ear. “You feel incredible. Always.”

She brought their joined hands to her breast, curling her leg more firmly over his hip. “Fuck, touch me,” she pleaded. “Need.”

“I've got you.” He pinched her nipple, rolled it in his fingers, adjusted his hips, taking her harder, deeper. In moments, Emma was trembling again, fighting the need to scream. Her climax hit without warning, rippling out from her core, stealing her breath. Killian grunted, his own orgasm tingling at the base of his spine. A handful of thrusts later, he was there, hoarsely whispering her name as she shuddered with aftershocks. “Bloody hell.”

Emma sagged, spent, already sleepy again. Still, it was the best kind of late night wake up. She weakly stroked his scruffy cheek, trying to catch her breath. “Love you,” she mumbled.

Killian chuckled dryly. “And I you.” He kissed her hair. “Sleepy again?”

“Maybe a little. But you are the best.”

“And you are sleepy and sated, my darling.” He rolled her on her back, lips skimming her temple. “Be right back.” He climbed from the bed and fetched something to clean her up. When he returned, she was already half asleep; he went about his task then rejoined her. She rolled over and cuddled against his chest, asleep again in moments. It didn't take him long to join her.

Emma woke up first, surprised to still be in his arms. She'd been doing that more and more lately, moving toward him in sleep. He was warm and solid, always at her side. She stretched a little, a dull ache in all the right places. Killian grunted and shifted, mumbling something she didn't catch. Emma smiled lazily, skimming a butterfly kiss to his scruffy jaw. She'd let him sleep a while longer while she snagged a shower.

She could already smell coffee brewing and faint sounds coming from the kitchen, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to join the family with the scent of sex clinging to her skin. She was washing her hair, eyes closed, humming softly to herself when the sound of the shower door opening startled her. “Holy shit!” she cried, trying vainly to cover herself.

“Shh, love, it's only me,” Killian whispered, placing a finger to her lips.

“What the hell are you _doing?”_ Emma hissed, glaring at him, suds sliding down her back.

“Taking a shower,” he said matter of factly. “That a crime now?”

“We're in your brother's house,” she reminded him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you insane?”

Killian gave her a pout. “I woke up and missed you,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Are you really cross with me?”

He was being reckless and ridiculous with that pout, but she wasn't really angry. Just surprised. “No,” she admitted. “But you did scare the crap out of me.”

“Sorry,” he said and meant it. “Let me make it up to you?”

“Uh huh, no dice,” she said, pushing a little on his chest. She backed him into the opposite wall of the shower. “But tonight you can.” She stood up on her toes and kissed him, not fighting him when he deepened it. They actually did manage to wash rather than give into their libidos again, but it was close. Killian had to check that the coast was clear before going back to their room to dress; Emma felt like they were back in his office, sneaking around.

After dressing, they walked hand in hand downstairs, finding the rest of the family in the kitchen. Killian was extra attentive, fetching her coffee and filling her plate of leftover brunch goodies. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” Emma said, sipping her coffee.

There was a chorus of “Merry Christmas” in reply, no one seemingly the wiser to their shared shower. Killian winked at her and Emma scowled at him. “Everyone eat up so we can open presents,” Liam said from behind his newspaper.

“What are you, brother? Six?”

“You were just as bad, Killian,” Liam retorted. “Every Christmas from two to ten, you woke Mum up by hopping on her bed at four in the morning.”

“What made him stop?” Emma asked, amused.

“He hopped too high and fell. Badly twisted his ankle and had to spend most of Christmas Day in hospital.”

“Poor baby,” Emma sympathized, kissing her boyfriend's cheek. The skin was bright red from embarrassment. Ingrid launched into a story about Christmas with her sisters, for which Killian nodded gratefully. Emma used the distraction to slip her hand into his back pocket, giving him a little squeeze. His eyebrows shot up but he said nothing. The next thing she knew his hand was planted firmly on her thigh, out of sight of the others.

No one wished to overeat on breakfast, not with the late day meal already cooking. Some of the dishes Emma didn't recognize but she did spot her mother's green bean casserole being prepared. She liked the idea of each family's traditions coming together like this. Emma helped Molly clean up while the boys found some Christmas music and Ingrid took a call from her sisters.

“How was the service?” Emma asked, rinsing off a dish.

“About the same. Dad was even nice to Liam.”

“Is there a reason they don't get along?”

Molly shrugged. “It's all ridiculous, really. Liam has a few rough edges compared to how I grew up, but he's a good man. He's going to be a wonderful father.” She touched her belly fondly. “Even if he doesn't quite believe it himself.”

“Is it scary? Having a baby?” Emma still didn't know when or if she'd ever be ready, but she knew next to nothing about her own parents.

Molly looked thoughtful. “Terrifying. Your body's going through all these changes and you can't control them. Your mood changes abruptly. You're tired all the time. But the morning sickness has passed, thank god.” She paused. “When I saw her in the monitor though...none of that mattered. I just hope she has Liam's eyes. Silly, right?”

Emma shook her head. She could imagine a child with the Jones brothers' pretty blue eyes. “I'm sure she'll be perfect.”

Abruptly, Molly hugged her. Emma was a little taken aback and hugged back. “I've never had a sister,” Molly said softly. “But I always wanted one.”

Emma smiled. “We'll see what we can do about that.” They finished cleaning up and headed for the living room, where Killian and Liam were arguing about football again. Emma rolled her eyes, wandering over to the tree. There was a huge pile of presents there now. She couldn't quite believe this was real; she was used to quiet holidays with Ingrid and her sisters, before that lonely Christmases where she wondered why her parents gave her up. But her mom was here, along with her boyfriend and _his_ family, all of whom seemed to accept her.

“Are you okay, honey?” Ingrid asked.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“You looked far away.”

“Just thinking. We're a long way from home.”

Ingrid touched her arm. “I don't know. I think home is pretty near at hand, don't you?” She glanced meaningfully at Killian, who was far too handsome in his button down shirt and vest.

“Maybe home is a lot of different places,” Emma mused. “Boston's still home.”

“You'll always be welcome, Emma. We're family. But your family is allowed to expand.”

Emma hugged her mom. “I love you, Mom,” she said, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

“I love you, too, dearest Emma.”

“We ready for presents?” Liam asked, throwing his brother an irritated scowl.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” She moved to settle on the couch next to Killian while Ingrid played Santa Claus. She passed out presents of all sizes before tearing into one for herself. Emma ripped at the colorful paper; the box was heavier than she expected. Killian watched her carefully as she lifted off the lid. “Oh my gosh.”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Do you like it?”

She carefully took the fine leather briefcase out of the box, turning it over in her hands. It had her name engraved on a plate near the handle and two combination locks. She flipped it open, fingers brushing the smooth lining. “It's amazing. Thank you.” She snapped it closed and turned to kiss him.

“You're welcome, lass.”

“Open yours!” Killian laughed as he tore into his present; Emma waited on pins and needles until she saw his eyes light up. He handled the leatherbound sketchbook with care; it was thick, soft black leather, secured with a lock. There was a tiny key that went with it.

“It's lovely,” he said. “Thank you, love.”

“There's more to it. Mom?” Ingrid handed her another package, which she put in Killian's hands. He was even less patient with this one, ripped paper falling to the floor. It was new set of chalks, charcoals and paints, very high quality. His own things were battered from use, not that he cared.

“Emma...”

She smiled nervously. “You like it?”

“Very much.” He kissed her, nibbling on her pouting lower lip, ignoring their audience. “Thank you.”

Emma smiled, fingers twisting the hair at his nape. “The lock is for us. So you can draw _whatever_ you want,” she whispered.

He remembered her dream from the night before, where he'd been painting her in an erotic pose. She had all of his sketches of her, but this was an incredible level of trust. “I love you so much,” he mumbled into her ear.

“I know.” She kissed him briefly one last time before turning back to see the others' presents. Liam got Killian a Manchester United scarf and two tickets to their last match of the year at Old Trafford. Emma glad they would spend some time together doing something they enjoyed. Molly got Emma and Ingrid passes for a local spa; the three of them would have a spa day while the boys were away. Molly cried a little when she saw the sketch Killian had done for the baby's room.

“That big thing there is from both of us,” Killian said to his brother.

Liam ripped off the paper, revealing a happy colorful mobile. It was Peter Pan themed with little Jolly Rogers mingling with Tinkerbell, Peter and the Darlings. “It's fantastic,” Liam said, also a bit choked up. “Thank you, brother. Emma.” Molly insisted on hugging them both as Ingrid fished for more presents.

“Oh, I found another one for you, Emma!”

Emma frowned and accepted the gift. It was a long thin box. Killian got nervous once more as she tore it open. Inside lay a gorgeous silver bracelet with a heart pendant. “Killian?” It looked expensive, far more expensive than any other jewelry she owned.

“Guilty, lass. May I?”

Emma nodded. “Sure.” She handed him the box and held out her right wrist. Killian slipped the bracelet on, securing it. “It's beautiful.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, Killian.” She smiled and kissed him, happier than she could remember being for a long time.

Much later, after watching more Christmas films, the Queen's speech and eating the amazing meal Molly and Ingrid made, Emma and Killian begged off, pleading tiredness. They knew they weren't fooling anyone but everyone pretended. Killian brought his new sketchbook and supplies, but they lay forgotten on the bed as they kissed.

“Good Christmas, sweetheart?” Killian murmured, coaxing her to the bed.

“Yeah. You?”

“The best.” He pulled her on top of him, content to just kiss and touch her away from prying eyes. “I do have one more gift though.”

“Another one? Killian, you don't...”

“Well, it's really for both of us. Indulge me?”

She huffed. “Fine.” She waited while he went to the closet and pulled out another box. This one wasn't wrapped; she lifted the lid and her eyes flew wide. “'Love Is Art'?”

“I thought we could try it,” he said, suddenly unsure.

“What, like body paint and stuff?”

“That's the general idea. Do you hate it?”

“No! It's just...” She looked at the box, turning it over in her hands. “What would we do with our art?”

“Well, we could hang it in our bedroom. No one would know but us. Or if was really eclectic we could hang in it in a more public space and let people wonder who the artist was.” He grinned. “How does that sound?”

Emma wet her lips. It was definitely intriguing. She loved their erotic art escapades. “You've wanted to do this for a while, haven't you?”

“It had crossed my mind a few times. You would be a most excellent canvas, lass.”

She flushed. “Do I get to play too?”

“It's only fair. In fact,” he said, kissing her lips, “it's highly encouraged.”

Emma cupped his cheeks and kissed him more firmly. “Then you've got yourself a date.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last regular chapter. I've got an epilogue planned, so it's not quite the end. Enjoy!

Emma yawned as they waited for their bags. They stayed in London as late as they could, taking a red eye flight to Philadelphia, then switching planes for their final destination. The new semester started in less than forty eight hours; Emma herself had a shift at the diner the next day or they would have stayed longer.

Killian wrapped his arm around her as she leaned on him; poor lass was exhausted. He texted Liam to let his brother know they arrived safely, promising to call the following day. He missed Liam and Molly already; the four of them had grown close during their weeks in England. But he had to admit that sleeping in his own bed was most welcome.

“I think I see our bags coming around,” he said softly, squeezing her shoulder. “Be right back.”

“Okay.” Emma held onto the trolley Killian has secured for their bags; they had a couple more than they left with. She hadn't thought they'd done that much shopping but when it came time to pack, there just wasn't enough room. Her swan Christmas ornament lay safely in her carry on, wrapped in about ten feet of paper. She switched her phone back on and was surprised to see nearly a half dozen calls from Elsa. Emma frowned as she dialed, putting the phone to her ear. What could be so important?

“Emma! Are you back?”

“We landed twenty minutes ago. Elsa, what's so urgent?”

“Your test scores are here. As well as two official looking letters from Stanford and Michigan.”

“Holy shit,” Emma breathed, the news waking her up instantly. She'd managed to put the lingering anxiety about her law school prospects out of her mind while they were in England; it was refreshing to not have to worry about the proverbial _other_ shoe. She didn't expect to have news this soon, but suddenly she needed to be _home._ “We're on our way. See you in few minutes.”

“Emma, what's the matter?” Killian asked, setting some of their bags on the trolley.

“My test scores are in,” she said in a bemused tone. “I got some other letters too.”

“We'll head directly to your apartment, just let me get these last bags.” He kissed her brow reassuringly, mentally urging the conveyor belt to hurry. He knew how important those test scores were and not only to Emma. Killian had committed to following her wherever her studies took her. He wanted to know almost as badly as she did. Finally, their final two bags came around and he manhandled the bags onto the trolley and wheeled it out to his car. Together, they loaded the trunk, the anticipation making them sloppy.

“I'm nervous,” Emma blurted as Killian pulled into traffic.

“I'm certain you did just fine. You worked very hard, love.”

“Yeah, I know, I just...” She'd tried not to let her new relationship get in the way of her studies, but what if it had? She hated even thinking it; Killian had been _so_ supportive of her schoolwork and giving her the time she needed. But she'd been so singleminded before she met him and she just worried something had changed. _She_ had changed in the last few months and even though Killian made her insanely happy, she didn't want to give up her dreams.

Killian reached over and took her hand. “We'll get through this together, yeah?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

Killian pulled into her apartment complex fifteen minutes later; there were other residents returning from semester break but no one paid Killian any mind. Emma only carried her carry on up to her place; she could get the rest later. She'd been planning on staying at Killian's and unpacking the next day before her shift. Plans, it seemed, would have to change.

Emma unlocked the door and headed inside, Killian on her heels. Elsa was at their kitchen table, molding some chicken wire for a sculpture. “Emma! Wow, that was quick,” she said, standing to hug her friend. “I'm so glad you're home.”

“Hello, Elsa,” Killian said.

“Hey, Killian. Thanks for this,” Elsa said, as Emma ignored them both and picked up her mail. There was a bunch of junk; she tossed those aside. The envelope with her test scores was deceptively thin; she tore into it not bothering with the letter opener Elsa had oh so helpfully laid beside the pile. She unfolded the paper and scanned it. And scanned it again.

“Emma?” Killian asked worriedly. “Good news?”

She turned, a grin breaking out on her face. “176,” she said, impressed by how calm her voice sounded.

“That's fantastic,” Killian cried, catching on quicker than Elsa. He knew far more about that bloody exam than he'd ever expected, but he was now glad he did. He hurried over to her and picked her up, spinning her around as she pretended to squeal in protest. Killian did set her on her feet, but he didn't let go until he kissed her soundly.

“I'm assuming that's a good score?” Elsa asked, smiling bemusedly at the pair.

“Perfect score is 180,” Emma explained. “I can get into practically anywhere I want now.”

“That's really amazing, Emma,” Elsa said earnestly. “I'm so happy for you.”

“Open the others, darling,” Killian urged. He waited with baited breath as she opened and devoured both letters. He thought it was a bit early for acceptances but he wouldn't complain if they were.

“I made it past the first round for both,” Emma said slowly, perusing the Stanford one again. That was where she really wanted to go, now that it didn't seem like a distant dream. It was _real._ “I should know for sure in a month or so.”

Killian laid his hands on her shoulders. “I knew you would.”

Emma suddenly felt horribly guilty for her traitorous thoughts of earlier. Killian was a source of strength, not weakness. She turned and hugged him tight, vowing to apologize when they were alone. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” Emma asked. “You can too, if you want.”

“Please stay,” Elsa said. “It doesn't bother me.”

“Very well, lass.” He smiled. “I'll bring your things up and one of my own bags. You two ladies catch up.”

“I can help,” Emma began.

“You are dead on your feet. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you are. I'll get them. You rest.”

Emma recognized that he was giving her some precious time with her best friend, so she didn't argue the point. Instead, she kissed his cheek as he left to get her bags. Emma shrugged out of her winter coat and hug it up in the hall closet. “So how was your break?”

Elsa resumed her seat. “Good. Got to do some skiing. Did you know that David's friend Kristoff lived near us?”

Emma frowned. “I didn't! Did you see him?”

“Yeah, getting ice at the supermarket of all things. Anna decided that baking a cake for Mom's birthday was a wonderful idea so off we went. I almost didn't recognize him. You know, out of his costume.”

“What happened?”

“You know how Anna is, thinks she's more graceful than a ballet dancer.” Elsa laughed fondly. “Anyway, she was trying to reach for a tub of rocky road on the top shelf but she was too short. She actually climbed into the freezer! Lost her balance and started falling; I tried to catch her but Kristoff was faster. He moves very fast for such a tall guy.”

Emma stifled a laugh. “Is Anna okay?”

“Yeah, she's fine. Seems quite taken with Kristoff though.”

Killian came in with the first round of bags; he looked comical carrying all the weight. Emma squeezed his hand as he passed. “So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Come on, Elsa. You didn't meet any mysterious strangers when you went home?”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “I don't think that's possible back home. Maybe I should have gone with you, gotten swept off my feet by some Englishman.”

“The accent alone is worth it,” Emma confided, grinning. “I highly recommend it.”

Elsa laughed. “I'll be sure to keep an eye out then. But I doubt all of them are as wonderful as Killian.”

“True. But you deserve to be happy, Elsa.”

Elsa laid a gentle hand on Emma's arm. “I'm not  _un_ happy, Emma. Perhaps I'm just waiting for the right person. But look at you, happy and in love.”

“Yeah, who'd have thought that?” Killian joined them as they continued to chat; Emma showed off more of her photos. They described some of the places they'd seen, ordering a pizza while they talked. Emma was starting to feel truly tired, but she pressed on until the pizza was finished. She'd missed talking to her best friend.

“I think it's time for bed,” Killian observed as Emma stifled a yawn. “The layover in Philadelphia was murder.” Killian spoke more to Elsa than Emma. “Are you sure don't mind if I stay, lass?”

“Of course not. I've got a meeting early tomorrow, I'll be gone before you guys wake up. I'm just glad to have you back.” She smiled and excused herself, heading for her bedroom at the end of the hall.

Killian took Emma to her room; it was just as he remembered it. He found some flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt in his suitcase that were mostly clean, changing quietly as Emma used the bathroom. She returned and got into the high bed, scooting over to make room for him. “It's good to be home,” she murmured as he joined her.

“Aye, good news is always welcome.”

“Sorry we didn't make it to your place.”

“I'm home wherever you are, sweetheart. The place doesn't matter. You know that.”

She snuggled closer. “I'm sorry for something else too.”

“What's that?”

She swallowed. “On the way over here, I was worried about my test scores. That us being together might have screwed up my preparation. Which is ridiculous because you are about the best boyfriend a girl could want and I'm just sorry I doubted that. Even for a second.”

“You wouldn't be the Emma I love if you didn't overthink,” he said gently. “But if it makes you feel better, apology accepted.”

“It sounds really silly to say, but I'm not used to being this happy. Sometimes there's a tiny voice that whispers that something might go wrong.”

“I promise you, no matter what, I will fight for us, lass. But I hope you will too.”

She looked him in the eye. “I will. I promise.” She sealed their promise with a kiss before laying her head on his chest. He flicked off the light and held her as they fell asleep.

The next day went by in a blur. Killian went home, spending the day unpacking and doing laundry. His house had a fine layer of dust on nearly everything, so he cleaned up, slowly making the house habitable again. Emma meanwhile went shopping for her new books in the morning before her shift at Granny's. Ruby and Granny greeted her with warm hugs; Ruby teased her mercilessly about her hot boyfriend. Emma confided that she'd wished she'd taken Ruby up on her offer for new lingerie; Ruby arbitrarily decided that they would go shopping very soon.

“But when are we going to meet him?” Ruby asked, wiping down the counter. “If he got you to date, then I need to meet him!”

“I don't know,” Emma replied with a shrug. “I was kinda hoping to introduce him to everyone at the same time.”

“But that's brilliant! We can all hang out here! Or somewhere else,” she added quickly, spying Emma's face. “And you can meet Victor.”

“Who's Victor?”

“Just this guy I'm seeing. _Not_ a football player.”

“Wow. Lacrosse? Baseball?”

“Nope. He's pre-med.”

Emma blinked. “Wow,” she said again. “Okay. But maybe we could all meet at the bar on College? Friday night?” She wanted somewhere public so that Elsa wouldn't feel like a seventh wheel. Who knew, maybe she'd meet someone there.

“I'm free. I'll text Victor and let you know. But don't tell Mary Margaret about your boyfriend. I want to see her face.”

Emma laughed. “Deal.” Mary Margaret was going  _flip._

After her shift, Emma went home. To her place, rather than Killian's. The semester started tomorrow and she wasn't sure how their schedules would mesh now. They hadn't even talked about him needing a new model for his classes. She tried to sleep, but it was more difficult than she anticipated. She'd gotten used to him beside her.

She lifted her phone from the nightstand.  _You awake?_

It took a minute for him to answer.  _Aye. Was just heading to bed, love._

Emma dialed, tucking the blanket under her chin. “Hello, my love.”

She smiled. “Hey Killian. How was your day?”

“Cleaned up, did laundry. Did some new sketches.”

“I thought you'd be getting ready for classes tomorrow.”

“First days are usually the same. I updated my syllabus before we left for London.”

“Oh.”

“I did miss you though. How was Granny's?”

“The same. I suspect World War III could come through and it would be the same.”

Killian laughed. Emma wished he was there so she could feel his laugh rumble against her. “Doubtless she was glad to have you back.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Emma, what's wrong?”

She sighed. “It's dumb.”

“I assure you, it's not.”

“I was just thinking how much I miss having you all to myself.”

“We've only been back for a day.”

“I know but...classes start tomorrow. You need a new model.”

Killian moved his hand behind his head. “Ah.”

“See? Dumb.” Because she did trust him. She knew deep in her bones that he loved her.

“Emma...you...what happened with us...I've _never_ been attracted to a model before you. Ever. I didn't fall in love with you because you were naked in my class. I love you because of your good heart, your tenacity, the _light_ you bring into my world. I haven't even glanced at another woman since I met you. You are it for me, love.”

Emma had a take a deep breath to get a handle on her emotions. “I know. I just...miss you.”

“My offer to move in here stands. I must admit to being very greedy when it come to you, Emma.”

She chuckled softly. “Me too.” She couldn't just leave Elsa in the lurch rent wise though. But deep down Emma suspected they would be living together in all but name, very, very soon. The last month had been incredible, going to bed together every night, waking up to his smile every morning. She wanted that. “So tell me about these new sketches.”

As he described all the ways he had drawn her in his new sketchbook, Emma made her choice. She hoped Elsa would understand.

* * *

Emma headed for Killian's classroom; she would normally spend the hour before her first class in the library, but this was Killian's first class with his new model. They were meeting her friends that night for drinks at the bar; it was a big day for them all around. He'd left the house early to get the classroom ready; she had a meeting with her Spanish study group at lunchtime, so she wouldn't see him until later.

She just wanted to see him.

Emma knocked on the door before stepping inside. Killian was up on the platform, carrying the plain wooden chair to the center of it. “Hello, Emma. This is a pleasant surprise.”

She smiled. “Hey.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He draped the sheet over the chair and stepped down, walking up to her and placing a chaste kiss to her cold lips. “That Bug of yours has wretched heat, darling.”

She rolled her eyes. “It's fine. It's just a long walk.” She unwrapped the scarf from her neck. “Maybe you should warm me up.”

“Aye.” He leaned down and captured her lips again, gently cupping her face. She hummed into the kiss, sighing as his tongue slipped past her lips. They broke the kiss when air became an issue, Emma's cheeks rosy pink, but not from the cold. “Much better, lass.”

“Definitely.” She tugged her gloves off and unzipped her coat. “I've got class at 10:15 so I can't stay long, but I wanted to see you.”

“I'll never say no to a visit, love.” He hugged her. “Sorry for rushing out this morning.”

She shrugged. “It's okay. We're still figuring all this out.”

“Have you spoken to Elsa yet?”

“I will tonight. I think Ruby might be willing to take my room; she's always complaining about living with Granny. If she moved into my place then she wouldn't have to sneak in and out.”

Killian laughed. “I'm very intrigued to meet her, as well as the rest of your friends.”

“According to Ruby, I'm not allowed to warn Mary Margaret; she wants to see her face.”

“A surprise then? Interesting.”

“Do you mind meeting us there? I want to go home, talk to Elsa first.”

“Of course. I don't want you to lose touch with your friends because of me.”

That was one of the reasons she loved him so much. He didn't begrudge her spending time with her friends or doing her schoolwork. They were a unit but they made room for their independent pursuits. “That's good. I was hoping to make next weekend a girls' weekend.”

“As long as this weekend is ours,” he replied cheekily.

Emma shivered. She knew exactly what they had planned for the Saturday evening. They were going to break open that Love Is Art kit Killian got them for Christmas. “I believe I promised you a date,” she teased.

“Aye, you did.” He kissed her again, only breaking apart as the first students began to filter in. Emma blushed, but she stood her ground. They didn't have to hide anymore. If she wanted to kiss her boyfriend before his class then she could.

“Professor Jones?”

Killian glanced over Emma's shoulder. “Ah, Miss Miller. Right on time. Everything is ready; we'll just be doing a simple facial sketch today.”

“Sounds good.” The woman sounded older than Emma expected, but very businesslike. Killian had told her a little about the woman he chose; Meredith Miller had posed for his classes before. He hadn't put out a flier like last semester; Emma suspected it was because of her. Meredith was a brunette, brown eyes, petite. She was pretty, thin, carried herself like a model. _Because it's her job, dummy,_ Emma thought.

“Emma?”

“Huh?”

“Hey, come back to me,” Killian said gently, finger under her chin.

She looked into his blue eyes; she saw the same thing she always saw, love, devotion, _forever._ “I'm here.”

“Good.” His lips touched her forehead. “You should get to class.”

“Yeah.” She stood up on her toes and kissed him. She could _feel_ the eyes on them, the envy, and it made her feel better. Okay, perhaps it was a little petty of her. But she had to endure women ogling him all last semester without revealing that he was _hers_. Now they had no such restrictions. “Love you,” she said quietly.

“And I you, love.” He smiled her favorite crooked smile. “Now off with you.”

She headed back into the cold morning with a smile plastered on her face.

* * *

“Elsa? You home?” Emma called, shrugging out of her coat. She headed for her room, tossing her backpack on her bed. She wasn't overly attached to the space; her only reservation was Elsa. She didn't want Elsa to think she was abandoning her. She wanted to figure out how to balance her friends, school and her boyfriend. Now that she wasn't swamped with schoolwork, she wanted this final semester to be fun.

Elsa stood in the doorway, blowing some hair out of her face. “Sorry, I was in my closet. Were you calling me?”

“Yeah. I, uh, wanted to talk to you before we headed out.”

Elsa smiled gently. “Is this about you moving into Killian's place?”

Emma bit her lip. “You know?”

“Emma, I'm your best friend, of course I know.”

She cringed. “Are you mad?”

“You're happy. How could I be mad about that?”

Emma sat cross legged on her bed; Elsa climbed up and did the same across from her. “I thought we could go back to how things were last semester,” Emma admitted. “But...I like waking up, knowing he's there. I got used to us together, I guess.”

Elsa nodded. “It's really okay, Emma. I had a feeling this would happen. You guys are adorable together.”

“I thought about asking Ruby if she wanted to sublet my room. If that was okay with you.”

“I like Ruby. We can ask her tonight, if you want. Just come visit every once in a while, okay?”

Emma laughed. “Definitely. How would you feel about having a girls' weekend? We could all stay here, you, me, Mary Margaret and Ruby.”

“Anna too. She wants to visit, see Kristoff.”

“I'd like that. I know she wants to meet Killian.”

“See? Moving forward isn't so bad now, is it?”

Emma flushed. “I just didn't want you to think I was abandoning you.”

“Emma, this is our last semester. You're going to law school next year. We're not going to be seeing each other every day anymore. But that doesn't mean we won't still be friends. You're like a sister to me.”

“Me too.” She laughed. “I always wondered what it would be like to have sisters, now I kinda have two.”

“Am I sharing?”

“Molly. Elsa, she's really great. I like her. Hopefully, you can meet her some time. I think you'll like her.”

“If she's crazy about you, then I already do.”

“I'll call her via Skype soon; we definitely need to introduce you.”

“We've got some time; let's look at more of these photos you took and I'll try not to be jealous.” Emma rolled her eyes; there wasn't a true jealous bone in Elsa's body. She was a truly selfless person. They spent the next couple of hours together, going through Emma's photos, Emma telling stories about the places and people in them. It felt good to reconnect with Elsa; she missed her while they were in England. Occasionally, Emma felt a bit overwhelmed; she had so many people she cared about now, who cared about her. She was so worried about losing them, letting them down. But she was willing to put in the work to make her relationships work.

She changed into one of her favorite outfits; skin tight jeans and a red turtleneck with studded belt. She curled her hair in loose princess curls and added light makeup. It was a casual drink with friends. Introducing them to her boyfriend. No big deal.

Elsa was in jeans and a blue cashmere sweater, long white blonde hair back in a plait. They shrugged into their coats and headed out; warming up the Bug before driving into downtown. Emma parked in the parking garage and they walked arm in arm to the bar. Mary Margaret and David were already there, tucked into a circular booth.

“Emma! Elsa! It's so good to see you!” Mary Margaret cried, jumping up to hug them both. They were exchanging greetings when Ruby and Victor arrived; David went to the bar to get drinks.

“Is he here?” Ruby whispered to Emma.

“Not yet. I asked him to meet us.”

“He better hurry up. I've made a bet with Victor.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but she looked around for Killian. He wasn't there yet. She accepted the rum and coke that David handed her, joining in the toast with the others. She tried not to look over her shoulder too much; she was starting to get nervous now. She excused herself to check her phone but there were no messages. When she returned from the bathroom, she found him, waiting at the bar.

“There you are,” she said, sidling up to him.

“Apologies, lass. Robin popped by my office, tried to talk my bloody ear off.”

Emma chuckled. “It's okay. We just got here too. Ready?”

“Aye.” He smiled down at her, picked up his drink and offered his hand. Emma took it and guided him to their booth.

“Hey everyone,” Emma said, feeling a tiny flutter of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. All eyes turned toward her. “Uh, I...this is Killian. My boyfriend.”

“You have a _boyfriend?”_ Mary Margaret screeched happily. “That's _wonderful!”_ She nudged Ruby out of her way; everyone stood and greeted Killian, the guys shaking his hand. She and Killian slid into the circular booth; Mary Margaret immediately drew them into a conversation about how they met. Several eyes grew wide and Mary Margaret blushed furiously as they told the story, but Emma held her head high. She had liked her time as a model; in fact she still was, just solely for Killian. But her friends didn't need to know that.

As the shock of her new boyfriend wore off, David got into a debate with Killian about the merits of American football versus soccer, which no one else was interested in. Emma, Elsa, Ruby and Mary Margaret got into a talk about school and Mary Margaret's student teaching. Another round of drinks led Ruby to the jukebox, which led to dancing and laughter. Killian got on well with her friends, good naturedly taking David ribbing and Ruby's salacious comments. Victor got Killian to do a sketch of Ruby on one of the napkins, which delighted her.

They all shared two baskets of greasy fries, taking the edge off their alcohol consumption. Emma switched to soda water, knowing she had to drive to Killian's after. They played darts, Emma switching partners between Killian and Elsa. At some point, she wound up in Killian's lap, watching as Victor and David got into an arm wrestling match. It was the best time she'd had out with her friends in a long time.

Emma stifled a yawn, her head on Killian's shoulder. “Tired, love?”

“I'm good.”

“Did you speak to Elsa?”

She nodded. “Yeah. She already suspected, go figure.”

Killian brushed curls off her shoulder. “You have been spending a lot of time at my place,” he reminded her.

“I know. Guess I thought I was being stealthy.”

He chuckled. “I think you may be a tad inebriated, sweetheart.”

“I'll be okay in a bit.”

“I can drive us home. Perhaps Elsa could drive your Bug.”

She nuzzled his neck. “Hmm, maybe.” She closed her eyes, lips brushing his skin. He tightened his hold, content to let her rest. The festivities seemed to be winding down; Ruby and Victor were dancing quietly in the corner; David, Mary Margaret and Elsa were deep in conversation. At midnight, Killian insisted on taking Emma home; Elsa hadn't indulged nearly as much as the others, she agreed to take Emma's Bug. Killian thanked her, after making sure she was okay to drive.

“Let's go home, love,” he said, helping Emma into her coat. They didn't talk on the way to the car or the drive back to his house; Killian had to carry her into the house because she was just too tired to walk on her own. It had been a hectic week; he could hardly blame her. Once she was fully moved in, they could start running together in the mornings. He tried not to be too excited but having her with him all the time was a dream come true. He wanted the transition to be as smooth as possible.

He got her upstairs; she was alert enough to change into her flannel pajamas on her own. Killian stripped to his boxers before joining her under the covers. “Good night, lass.”

“Night, Killian.” She snuggled into his side was out like a light. He chuckled and kissed her hair, following not long after.

* * *

Killian spread out the tarp on the floor of the living room. It was the only room with enough space for the canvas, aside from his studio. But the studio would be chilly, even with the space heaters, and the floor was hard. He wanted them to be comfortable as they indulged in this. He made sure the front curtains were securely closed; he was the only person who got to see Emma like this now. Job done, he laid out the canvas; it was a solid matte black. He secured the corners and stepped away, waiting for Emma.

Emma was in the bedroom, braiding her hair. She didn't want to get paint in her hair. She twisted the braids up into a knot then scrubbed her face. Emma felt inexplicably self conscious; she was nude, planning on only wearing her robe downstairs. Undressing would just waste time. She was intrigued by what they were going to do; she'd never done anything remotely close to this before. It felt like all their previous erotic art ventures had lead up to this.

She rechecked her hair and shrugged into the robe. The worn soft cloth comforted her; it was the same robe Killian had unknowingly given her at the beginning of their journey together. She loved it; it reminded her that he'd cared about her from the very beginning. She had no idea when she accepted the job that it would change her life, but she was very happy that it had.

Emma padded down the stairs; soft music was playing. It was an instrumental piece she didn't recognize, but she liked it. Killian was waiting, looking very handsome in his jeans, shirt and vest. The sight of him still made her breathing hitch; she suspected it always would. She stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hey.”

“Evening, lass.”

She laid her head on his broad back. “Hmm, you smell nice.”

He chuckled. “Can't say that I noticed, but I'm pleased you think so.”

She squeezed his stomach before stepping around to face him. “I notice a lot of things about you.”

Killian smiled, resting his hands on her hips. “Do you now?”

“Yeah, like this.” She stood up on her toes and kissed the hollow of his throat. He sucked in a breath; her lips on his skin never failed to get his heart racing. She laid her hands on his chest to steady herself as she nibbled and licked at the exposed skin. His neck was one of her favorite parts; she could feel his pulse under her tongue.

Killian hummed, hands tightening on her waist. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, cupping the back of her head and dragging her lips to his, kissing her passionately. Emma moaned softly, pressing herself against him. She squeaked as he picked her up and set her on top of the back of the couch. She wrapped her legs around his waist, nipping sharply at his lower lip, earning her a growl as she began to unbutton his vest and shirt.

Killian spread his hands under the terry cloth, easing it off her shoulders. He liked that she wore the robe he'd given her; it was his but it looked better on her. He palmed and fondled her breasts, pausing only when she stripped off his shirt. “I can't wait to see you covered in paint,” he murmured in her ear. “So beautiful.”

Heat pooled in her belly. “You too,” she replied huskily. “I want to play too.”

“And you will,” he assured her, guiding her hands to his fly. “As soon as we're naked.”

She grinned up at him, stroking his hardening cock through his jeans. He groaned, lightly thrusting into her touch. He captured her mouth again, his kiss almost bruising. Emma gave as good as she got, roughly unzipping his fly and jerking his pants down. Now that they were doing this, she was excited, her nerves melting away. She was with Killian and he made her feel safe.

She hopped off the couch; Killian hastily untied the belt holding the robe together. “Drove me crazy,” he mumbled. “Seeing you in this every day.” Emma lowered her arms and it pooled at her feet. “Mine.”

She nodded, stepping closer, pressing a kiss just over his thrumming heart. She skimmed her hands down over his abs to the waistband of his boxers. Slowly, she removed the final barriers between them, kneeling at his feet as he stepped out of the jeans. He urged her up, kissing her again, guiding them to the canvas. They both knelt, hands wandering, Emma deftly wrapping her fingers around his now straining cock. Her hands would be covered in paint soon, so she wanted to touch while she could.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed, biting at the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

“I love touching you,” she said, giving his ass a squeeze with her free hand. His body was hard and toned, gorgeous to look at. But she loved the sounds he made as she touched him, making him insane with need.

“If you keep doing that,” he panted, “we won't get to the paint, darling.”

She gave him another long stroke then released him. “Okay, I'm ready.”

“Sodding minx.” He kissed her quickly, then stretched for the paint. Emma sat back on her haunches, knees spread, hoping to ease the ache that was already building in her. Killian came up behind her, still on his knees. His lips trailed over her collar, hand skimming down her back. “You'll make such a lovely canvas.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. “Do it.” She inhaled sharply as the cold paint touched her skin, squeezed from its bottle. Killian started at her collarbone, golden paint sliding down toward her chest. He kissed the other side of her neck, setting the bottle aside. His fingers slid across her chest, slashing through the paint, her back against his chest. His cock was nestled in the crease of her ass; Emma rolled her hips into it.

Killian moved his hand to her breast, smearing paint over the soft round globe. Emma whimpered as he manipulated her nipples, one covered in paint. She arched, covering his palms with hers. Paint squeezed between her fingers. “More.”

“As you wish.” He picked up the bottle. “Lay down, love.”

Emma stretched out on the canvas, her stomach muscles trembling. Killian squeezed more paint on her skin, right on that flat belly. Then he pressed the bottle into her hand. “Your turn.”

“In a minute.” She laid it aside and pulled him down, he covered her with his body as they kissed, paint smearing over their bodies. Emma rolled them over and straddled his hips. Only then did she snatch up the paint bottle and used it, squeezing a liberal amount into her palm. She drew nonsense on his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles. Killian ran his hands over her hips, rubbing more paint over her skin as she gently rocked her hips. The friction was just enough to tease; neither of them was in any hurry. Light teasing touches, gold paint spreading over their skin, onto the canvas.

Killian laid Emma on her stomach; He drizzled paint along the slope of her spine, kissing her shoulder blades as he drew nonsense into her skin. “Alright, lass?”

Emma nodded, feeling both languid and hot at the same time. She ached for him to fill her, but she wasn't ready for the teasing to end. “Don't stop.”

He kissed one of the globes of her ass. “Lift up, Emma. Spread your knees.” She did as he asked, head and chest still against the canvas, her ass in the air. Killian spread her cheeks, golden handprints on her skin as he kissed her puckered hole. Emma jerked a little, surprised, but her squeak melted into a moan as he kissed and licked her. “You like this?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, stretching her arms out in front of her. Streaks of paint were left behind, a testament to how amazing he was making her feel.

Killian bit back a groan. “Perhaps one day,” he said. He was certain Emma had never done that before and he wouldn't force her. He didn't need that to be utterly enslaved to her. He teased her one last time before sliding his mouth down to her aching pink slit. Emma gasped as he licked the length of her. A curse tumbled from her lips as he tongued her entrance, lapping at her copious arousal. “So wet, my darling.”

“Ugh,” Emma moaned, trying to thrust her hips back toward him. She spread her knees wider, the paint making it easier for her to move. Killian spotted the streaks her writhing left behind and he had to fight the urge to just drive into her. He wasn't ready for this to be over; he was enjoying it too much. He ducked his head and sucked her clit between his lips; Emma shuddered in pleasure. She chanted his name in a slightly strangled voice, her body tightening, climbing higher and higher. “Killian, _please_.”

He returned to her entrance, plunging his tongue in as far as he could; Emma pushed back, trying to relieve the pressure, _fuck_ his mouth. Finally he pulled hard on her clit, the sensitive nub between his teeth and Emma screamed, colors exploding behind her closed eyes as she climaxed. Killian dragged it out until she was whimpering, It was almost too much. He left her with a parting kiss, gently rolling her onto her back. Killian stretched out beside her, licking his lips.

The paint was starting to dry on their skin, but he gave her a respite; they had plenty of paint to keep going. Emma hummed, the ache in her body not entirely gone despite her powerful orgasm. Coming without him inside her felt slightly hollow, not enough. She needed that connection. Gradually her breath returned and she rolled onto her side, facing him. She kissed him, plucking the fresh bottle of paint from his hand.

“I liked finger painting as a kid,” she said quietly, moving to sit up. Killian followed her, pleasantly surprised when she climbed into his lap. “Let me?”

“Anything,” he agreed, chasing her lips. They made out as she poured more paint into her palms. She made sure her hands were completely covered before splaying them over his back. Thick paint smeared over his back and shoulders; Killian shivered and groaned. It was such a sensual moment; he got some paint of his own, smearing it over her thighs and hips. They toppled over, hands everywhere, rolling across the canvas. They only paused their kissing to breathe, until Emma was once again in Killian's lap. “Emma. Fuck.” He sucked greedily on her pulse, one of the few patches of skin not smeared with paint. He left an angry red mark there, a stark contrast to her golden skin. “Need you, lass.”

“God yes,” she breathed. She kissed him again. “How do you want me?”

“Don't care as long as I'm in you,” he bit out. Still, the flipped them so Emma was on her back. She giggled as he settled between her thighs, cock bobbing. He grinned wolfishly, running his hands up her body until their hands were entwined above her head. He jerked his hips forward, taking her in one deep stroke. Emma moaned loudly, relishing that initial stretch. Killian kissed her as he fucked her slowly with shallow thrusts. “So hot and wet for me. So good.”

Emma's back arched, locking her ankles at the small of his back, forcing him deeper. “Fuck, just like that,” she gasped, head thrashing. “You feel... _god.”_

“Shit,” he cursed, the heat of her scorching. He picked up the pace, adjusting his hips, seeking out the spot that would make her scream for him. Emma squeezed his hands, hips rocking up to meet him, skin slapping hard.

“Faster,” she pleaded, wetting her lips. “So close.”

Killian heeded her, letting go of one of her hands. He hitched her right leg under his arm, sweat beading on his brow as he took her harder, faster. Emma cried out, back arching as a second climax threatened to overwhelm her. “Come for me, Emma. _Come_.”

She tried to nod, but she lost control of her body, walls clamping on his thick cock, nonsense tumbling from her lips. Killian let out a strangled grunt as he followed her, spilling himself deep inside her. Emma was only vaguely aware as he eventually softened and rolled off her; the experience had been intense. She whined as he eased on her side, lips skimming her paint streaked brow. Neither of them moved for a while, slowly regaining their breath and their wits.

“Okay, Emma?” Killian asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“I'm perfect.” He was curious what their art looked like but they could examine it once it was dry. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“This was fun. More than, really.” She smiled. “I can't wait to see what it looks like.”

“Tomorrow,” he said firmly. “Now we have the other fun part.”

“Other fun part? Did I miss something?”

“Cleaning up, of course.”

She laughed. “Right. Shower?”

“I was thinking a bath.”

“I love the way you think, babe.” Emma giggled as Killian helped her up. They were covered in streaks and smudges of gold paint. They held hands as they trooped upstairs; Killian started running the bath water while Emma found them more music on his phone. Killian crowded her against the vanity and kissed her deeply; just enjoying the sweetness of her kiss until the bath was ready.

“Into the tub with you, lass,” he said mischievously, picking her up. Emma screeched and clung to his neck as he stepped into the bath. This was one of those times where she especially appreciated those workouts Liam had teased his brother about. Killian lowered them into the hot water, his deep laugh rumbling against her. “Now this is much better.”

Emma looked at him skeptically. “You seemed to be having fun earlier.”

“I definitely did, love.” His wet hand skimmed her collar where he first poured paint on her skin. “One I would not be opposed to repeating in the future.”

“Let's see how it turns out first.” Emma settled in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him, gentle brushing of the lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She shrugged. “Everything, I guess. A lot's happened in the last few months.”

He stroked the apple of her cheek with his wet thumb. “Aye. I'm thankful you gave me a chance to make you happy.”

She smiled. “Think we'll make it?”

“Emma, we've got a whole future to look forward to. I promise you, it'll be amazing.” He kissed her again and Emma sighed into it. Killian always kept his promises; he'd made her a believer.

The water was already beginning to turn gold as they soaked. Emma reached for the soap and a washcloth; she enjoyed this part especially. She lathered the soap and started with his chest, gently scrubbing away the paint. Killian snagged another and started on her, occasionally stealing a kiss or three. Emma moaned softly as he touched her; warmth pooled low in her belly.

“Emma,” Killian breathed, nipping at her earlobe. “Bloody hell, those sounds you make...”

Emma guided his hands to her breasts, washcloth forgotten. They were mostly clean now, skin soapy and wet. “I don't think we're done,” she muttered, kissing him hungrily.

“I'll never be done with you,” he affirmed, roughly pinching her nipples. She groaned and arched, nails digging into his shoulders. Emma pressed herself closer, Killian's large hands slid under her ass, where he kneaded and squeezed. Her core brushed his already hardening cock; it wouldn't be long before he could have her again.

“Oh god,” Emma hissed, undulating in his lap.

Killian chuckled darkly and slipped his hand between them. “Are you wet, darling? Hungry for more?” He touched her, feeling her swollen clit, playing with her entrance. She moaned louder, hips rolling. “Bloody hell, I love you.” He crashed his mouth to hers, tongue in her mouth, deftly teasing her clit. “You are so fucking hot.”

Emma bit her lip, trying to urge his fingers inside her. “So... _fuck_...are you.” She reached between them and took him in her hand, stroking him the way he liked, with just a touch of roughness. He hardened further, growling low in his throat. Emma licked at the water on his neck, sucking greedily on his skin. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?”

“Christ, love.” He pinched her clit, making her cry out. “You don't know all things I want to do to you.”

“We've got...lots of time,” she groaned. “Need you.”

“Take me in, Emma. Fuck.” Emma lifted her hips, guiding him to her entrance. Her mouth opened in a sharp needy moan as he pushed inside. She used the buoyancy of the water to ride him; Killian held her close, pressing kisses to her lips, jaw and neck. She moved faster, eyes fluttering shut, the thick drag of him so good. Her stiff nipples scraped over his coarse wet chest hair making her shiver and bite her lip. Killian's fingers dug into her skin; she hoped she'd have bruises, a testament to how much he needed her.

“Oh...oh yes,” Emma breathed, shuddering as he slipped even deeper inside her. “Feels so good.”

Water splashed over the side of the tub but no one cared. All Killian could focus on was her tight wet sheath around him. “Squeeze me, Emma. Love that.”

Emma used his shoulders for leverage, slowing her pace, sucking on her lower lip as she tightened those inner muscles around his thick shaft. She repeated it on every drive of her hips, leaving Killian to chant her name under his breath. His climax tingled at the base of his spine, but he wasn't going without her. He found her clit with his thumb, rubbing it furiously. Emma cried out, her rhythm faltering.

“Killian,” she panted. “Fuck...just a little more. Please.”

He adjusted the angle of his hips in the water, seeking the perfect spot. Emma shuddered and gasped, nodding furiously. “Let go, Emma. I've got you.”

She threw her head back and screamed, pleasure washing through her as she climaxed. Killian lifted her off and turned her around, weak legs holding her up as she bent over, hands gripping the porcelain edge of the tub. Killian plunged inside her waiting fluttering heat, holding her up, an arm wrapped under her stomach. He took her hard, roaring as he pulsed and bathed her walls in his essence.

They fell back into the tub, water splashing all over the floor. Emma sagged against his chest, utterly spent. Killian kissed her hair between deep breaths, arms around her waist. The water had lost its heat but they were too tired to move for while.

“Emma?”

“Hmm?”

“We should get you to bed, lass.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you walk?”

“I think so.” Only the chilly water could induce her to move at the moment. She felt boneless and sated; only Killian could make her feel like that. She forced herself to stand and step out of the tub. Killian followed, ready to catch her if she stumbled. She didn't, merely handing him a towel before taking one for herself. They dried off and made their way to the bedroom. Emma slipped on one of Killian's t-shirts, her only effort at pajamas. Killian found some boxers before joining Emma in bed. “Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“I love you.”

He spooned her from behind. “I love you too, Emma.” And he had a lifetime to continue to show her how much.

 


	27. Epilogue

**Seven months later...**

“Babe, where are the glasses?” Emma called. She was standing in their new kitchen and had _no_ idea where anything was.

“Corner cupboard, love,” Killian called back, carrying another heavy box of books. The movers had helped with the worst of the lifting and carrying, but their living room still looked like a disaster area. There were boxes everywhere, a few piles of clothes. Only two rooms were unpacked: the master bedroom and the kitchen.

Emma found a glass and got some water out of their gleaming chrome fridge. The Spanish style bungalow was cool despite the late summer temperatures. It wasn't her dream home (Killian's sketch of it was already hung on the wall in the living room, something for them to look forward to) but she loved it. The older couple they were renting it from were all too happy to cut them a deal; it had been their home for decades and they liked the idea of it being a starter home for another couple. It took them a week to drive across the country with Emma's Bug hitched up to the moving truck and Ingrid driving Killian's car. Her mother had left the day before; they were finally on their own.

Killian entered the kitchen, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head before getting his own drink of water. “Why such a pensive face?” he asked, taking a huge gulp of water.

She shrugged. “I look pensive?”

“Just a touch. What's going on in that pretty head, lass?”

“Nothing much. Just getting used to all this, I guess.”

Killian looked around. “Aye, it's quite a change. Not sure I've recovered from the drive, to be honest.”

Emma laughed. “Being stuck in a car with me that bad, huh?”

“The company was perfect.” He kissed her brow. “But those bloody seats leave something to be desired.”

“If we're lucky, we won't have to about anything like that for a while. Moving's a bitch.” She'd be in law school for three years, then she had to pass the bar before trying to find a job. It was a little daunting, but less so with Killian there to support her.

“You're the one who chose Stanford,” he reminded her. She'd gotten several offers but this was the only one she really considered. She had a scholarship and could supplement their income by working at the law library on campus. “Not that it's a complaint, love. Where else could we have a palm tree in the front yard?”

“You're weirdly obsessed with that palm tree.”

“I'm English, love. I've never lived anywhere that was warm enough for palm trees.”

“I'm surprised it's still alive with the drought and everything.”

“The Campbells may have left a few pointers on how to take care of it.”

“Oh. Cool.” She downed some more water. They had a good sized yard, if a bit hemmed in by the neighbors. But the neighborhood was nice; they weren't the only young couple in the area. This was evidenced by the food that currently stocked their fridge, all brought by solicitous neighbors. They hadn't had time to go shopping yet.

“I think I've got everything in the office, if you want to start organizing it,” Killian offered. “I can finish stocking the closet.”

“Wow, thanks.” All those boxes of books couldn't have been light. “You're the best.”

“Thank me later,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Emma laid her hand on his chest. The skin peeking out of his shirt was damp with sweat; she had to fight the urge to lick. “You're on. Anything you want.”

He groaned softly. “God, don't tempt me, lass.” They'd had to be on their best behavior with Ingrid around; something made relatively easy from the exhaustion of driving all day.

Emma stood up on her toes and placed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Maybe we could set up the studio for tonight?”

“I'd like that.” He kissed her again, wrapping an arm around her waist, hugging her to his chest. “It's been far too long since I've sketched you.”

Emma sighed, a shiver racing down her spine. Her Christmas gift to him was very well used; she got him a second one for his birthday. She squeezed his waist. “Yes, it has.”

“Have you decided where to put our art yet?”

“How about the den?” She liked it too much to keep it tucked away in their bedroom. No one there knew them, so it was unlikely anyone would pick up on how the painting was created. Emma had very happy memories of that night.

“I think that's a excellent choice.”

They stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes longer, just enjoying the quiet moment. Emma had law school orientation in a week; Killian started at the local art school around the same time. Quiet moments would be hard to come by in the not too distant future.

After putting their glasses in the dishwasher, Emma headed for her new office while Killian went to finish organizing their clothes and other belongings. After he finished that, he had a studio to clean up. Emma opened boxes, figuring out where all of her books were. She organized them by subject, then alphabetically by title. After, she broke down the boxes and set them in the corner to be disposed of later.

Ingrid's housewarming gift was a brand new desk; Emma's laptop rested on it. She hung her ocean painting above the desk; with them together in the master bedroom, the office was her space. It was her way of keeping Killian with her, even when he wasn't there. She was vacuuming the little bits of cardboard and packing peanuts when she felt her phone vibrate. Emma switched off the vacuum and dug for her phone. “Hey Elsa!”

“Hi, Emma. This a bad time?”

“No, I was just cleaning.”

“Cleaning? You unpacked already?”

“Oh god, no. We decided to take it one room at time. I'm in my office.”

“Wow, fancy.”

Emma laughed. “It's definitely a perk. Killian's somewhere, unpacking. He might be buried under clothes though. Who knows.”

“Are you gonna send out a search party?”

“Nah. I like the quiet.”

“Liar. You miss him when he's not in the room with you.”

She blushed. “Yeah, yeah, I'm a sap. Does this call have a point?”

“Just wanted to see how moving was going.”

“It's good. Hard but good.”

“It looks nice in the pictures. Anna's already wondering when we can come visit you.”

“We'd be happy to have you. Just let us get settled. Maybe fall break?”

“I'd like that.”

“How are things there? Boss still an asshole?”

“I didn't say she was an asshole, Emma. She's just...difficult.” Elsa got a job as a curator's assistant the Philadelphia Museum of Art; it was a way to get her foot in the door. Emma was sure Elsa's own sculptures would catch the eye of a buyer soon. They had a few of her pieces carefully packed away; indeed between her best friend and her boyfriend, they had an abundance of art for their home.

“Same thing. Who has she accosted this week? Some little old lady?”

Elsa laughed dryly. “No. She just has a particular way of doing things. I'm learning a lot though. Will says I've lasted longer than anyone else, so I must be doing something right.”

“Will? Who's Will?” Emma asked curiously.

“No one. He's a friend.”

“A work friend? A bar hopping friend? Both? Is he cute?” Emma sat in her desk chair, eager to hear all about this Will person.

Elsa's nervous laugh told Emma all she needed to know. “He's...kinda cute? He's English too.”

“He _is?!_ So I ask...why haven't you asked him out yet?”

“Do you think I should?”

“Elsa, it's the twenty first century. You totally should. The worst that happens is he says no. Things might get weird for a bit but if he's really your friend, he'll get over it.” They talked for a while longer, Elsa promising to try and talk to Will. It was strange for Emma to be the person _giving_ dating advice, but she felt she owed Elsa. Elsa encouraged her to give Killian a chance and it had been so, so worth it.

Emma finished up in the office, then went to tackle more of the boxes in the living room. The house had two bedrooms aside from the master; they decided to use one of them for storage, as they didn't have an attic. Emma tucked boxes containing some of their more sentimental possessions in there. Emma dwelled on the past less and less these days; she was too happy in the present.

Things looked much better by the time she was finished. If they hung some art and got another chair or two, the living room would be fit for entertaining.

“Emma, love, are you hungry?” Killian asked, knocking on the door jam.

“Starving actually.”

“I took the liberty of ordering us some pizza. Should be here soon.”

“Tired of leftovers already?” she teased.

“While I am grateful for the generosity of our neighbors, I am not craving squash risotto.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. Her foster home upbringing ensured she wasn't a picky eater—she either ate what was in front of her or she didn't eat—but she even drew the line at squash. “Good call. Living room's pretty clean if we want to wait there for it to arrive.”

“You did all that?” he asked, holding her hand as they walked.

“Well yeah. I just want to get it done, you know?”

“Aye, I understand.” His phone buzzed with a text message. He slipped it out of his pocket and smiled. It was Liam. “Liam wants to know if we're free to talk.”

“Sure. Skype?”

“If you want to see the baby, then aye.” He found his laptop tucked in a box in the corner; it took a few minutes for the bloody thing to boot up. He was going to have to get a new one soon. As soon as he could, he opened Skype and dialed his brother. It was pretty late in London; Killian wondered why they were still up. Perhaps the baby was keeping them awake. Liam came into view, all smiles despite the late hour. “Hello, brother.”

“Hi, Liam. You look like hell.”

“Nice to see you too,” Liam snarked. “Is your better half around?”

Emma leaned into the picture. “Right here, Liam. How's Molly?”

“Tired but well. The little lass is not yet sleeping through the night.”

“Liam, is that Killian and Emma?”

“Aye, love. Come say hello.”

Molly came into view; she looked exhausted but happy. She was carrying little Isabelle Catherine Jones, known to her family as Izzy. Emma smiled as she always did when she saw the baby. Izzy was adorable; it was impossible not to love her. Molly had given birth in mid April, so she and Liam missed Emma's graduation. She and Killian got on a plane soon after, spending a week in London to meet the newest member of the Jones family. “Hey you two.”

“Hi, Molly,” Emma said. “How's Izzy?”

Molly beamed. “Doing better now that she's fed. Was a bit fussy a little while ago. How's moving?”

“Coming along. I think we've gotten all the important stuff, right, babe?”

“Aye. Getting here was more of a challenge to be honest.”

“How is California, brother?” Liam asked.

“Pleasant. We've got a palm tree in our yard, Liam,” he informed his brother proudly.

“I'm expecting a full tour when we come visit.” Liam exchanged a look with Molly. “When Izzy is a bit older, of course.”

“We'll be there at Christmas, don't forget,” Emma said. “We'll bring lots of pictures.”

“Speaking of Christmas, Izzy adores the Peter Pan mobile,” Molly enthused. “She keeps trying to grab it.”

Killian laughed. “She's definitely a Jones then. That's good to know.” Izzy gurgled and stretched out her little arms; Molly handed the baby off to her husband. Liam's face instantly softened, one long finger clenched tightly in his daughter's fist. Emma laid her head on Killian's shoulder; she couldn't help imagining a similar look on Killian's face. It may be a few years down the road, but the idea of having a family with him didn't seem so scary anymore.

They spent the next twenty minutes getting caught up, but Molly was falling asleep on Liam's shoulder. When their pizza arrived, Killian left Emma to say good night while he paid for the pie. They collected plates and some beer before retiring to the den. Emma noticed their painting hanging on the wall; Killian had even placed their pottery on the side table directly under it. For other people, they were nice eclectic pieces of art. For she and Killian, those pieces were proof of how much they loved each other; each one had a very happy memory attached.

“What do you want to watch?” Killian asked, pulling her from her reverie.

“Is the Netflix hooked up?”

“Aye, I believe so.” He grinned. “Is that a request to Netflix and _chill,_ as they say?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Only if you want to waste studio time.”

He shuddered. “Perish the thought.” He flipped on the TV and the blu ray player, logging into the Netflix. They settled in to eat and watch a couple of Disney classics. They demolished the pizza; Emma hadn't realized how hungry she was. After, she curled up in Killian's lap, where she did wind up doing more kissing than actual watching of the television.

“I knew you couldn't resist me,” Killian joked, easing the elastic from her hair. He combed his fingers through it as she adjusted her seat, straddling his hips.

Emma bit back a sigh; his fingers in her hair always got to her, especially when he gently massaged her scalp. “Maybe you can't resist me,” she muttered, slipping her fingers under the collar of his shirt.

“I'll not deny something that's true,” he replied, kissing along her jaw. His scruff scraped deliciously over her skin; tiny pinpricks of sensation shot to the apex of her thighs. “I always was hopeless for you, Emma.”

She moaned, head falling back, his lips moving lower. He sucked on her skin, biting where neck met shoulder. “Oh god.” She plucked at the buttons of his shirt, trying to get it off. His skin was hot to the touch, heart thudding under her palm. “Studio please?”

“Ugh, you're trying to kill me, love.”

She nipped at his earlobe. “Don't you want to christen it?” she asked huskily. “Break it in?”

“Sodding minx.” His shirt was half peeled off but he picked her up, legs wrapping tightly around his hips. They ignored the TV completely, pausing only long enough to flip the light out, before marching toward the studio. Emma giggled, kissing the hollow of his throat, kneading his shoulders. Killian groaned, hands under her ass, supporting her. She scraped her teeth over his skin; Killian hissed, one palm slapping hard at her clothed ass cheek. “Emma,” he said dangerously.

“What?”

“Don't make me punish you, lass.”

Emma shivered. “Maybe I want that.”

“Fucking hell.” He crushed his mouth to hers, pressing her against the nearest wall. His studio was at the end of the hall, but it was a toss up on whether they would make it that far. He thrust his hips hard into her heat, making her whimper into his kiss. Emma tried again to get his shirt off, or at the very least feel more of his bare skin.

“Killian...fuck,” Emma breathed, sucking hard on his lower lip.

“You feel that,” he bit out, grinding his hips. His cock throbbed, longing to simply be buried inside her wet heat. “How much I want you.”

Emma thrust back, nodding hard. “God yes.”

“I could take you right here,” he whispered, kissing her neck. Her pulse jumped wildly under her skin, her nails dug into his back. “Or I could make you beg. Which shall it be, darling?”

Emma didn't understand how she could be expected to achieve rational thought when he was heavy and hard between her legs. “I want...I want...Fuck, make me beg,” she panted. She wanted to know what he would do to her.

“God, I love you.” He kissed her hard, rutting into her trying to ease his own ache before he worked on her in earnest. He groaned, hands settling under her once more. He carried her down the hall, fingers digging into her ass as she licked and sucked at his neck.

The chaise they first made love on was in the middle of the room; it was a bit old but he insisted on bringing it, for sentimental value alone. He was glad they brought it with them; he could think of no better way to properly christen their first home together.

Killian set her on her feet, face cupped in his palms. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, purposely slowing their pace. If he was going to make her beg, then he would damn well take his time about it. His hands wandered, gradually peeling off her clothes. She was wearing his favorite blue bra and panty set; he made a mental note to sketch her in it at some future date.

Emma felt her knees go weak; it was so hard to focus on simple things like standing when he kissed her like this. His rough hands molded to her soft flushed skin, fondling her breasts, skimming over her stomach, her hips. He avoided her mound no matter how much she rolled her hips. “Stay still,” he ordered huskily.

She bit her lip but nodded her ascent. Killian pushed her back toward the chaise, letting her lay out on her back. He found some scarves in one of the boxes (this wasn't the first time they used his studio for play) and used them to tie her wrists together, pressing kisses to the skin. “Arms above your head, love.”

Emma did as he asked, a pulse of lust shooting down her spine. She liked being restrained, even though she wasn't tied to the chaise. Killian urged her thighs apart until her feet were flat on the ground. Her wet glistening cunt was on display for him; fuck, it was almost exactly like that erotic dream she had. That was  _ months _ ago. The fact that he remembered and was indulging her only made her love him more.

Killian adjusted himself in his pants; it was a special kind of torture to lay her out like this and not just fuck her. But they would have plenty of chances for quick and dirty sex. His shirt was already half off thanks to her impatient fingers, so he stripped it off, watching as she wet her kiss bitten lips. He found his sketchbook and some charcoal, then straddled the lower part of the chaise, their knees touching. “You are a fucking work of art,” he murmured, bending to kiss her stomach. She was trembling, skin flushed, nipples hard and pebbled. “Now I want you to stay still while I draw you. Any movement will be punished. Do you understand?”

Emma nodded. “Yes.” She swallowed, wondering how in the hell she was supposed to stay completely still. She'd modeled for him many times, but never as part of a sex game. Usually, she'd pose, his intense gaze enough to make her wet. He never touched her until he was finished; then he'd let her ride him until they both saw stars.

It was worse now, because she secretly  _ wanted _ to be punished.

Killian sucked in a deep breath; this would be as hard for him as it was for her. His entire body was screaming at him to pull her into his lap and plunge inside. He traced the lines of her body with his eyes; she was lithe but curvy, miles of pale skin on display. He began with broad strokes, fingers working quickly, almost on autopilot. He'd drawn her so many times; he knew her body far better than his own. As he focused on each part of her body, he touch her with hands or lips. Emma fought to keep still as he suckled her breasts, but she felt her control slipping. He bit on a stiff nipple and she cried out, hips bucking up against the throb in her clit.

“Naughty girl,” he chuckled. He laid the sketch aside for a moment. He skimmed his hands up her thighs; she was quivering with anticipation. His thumbs brushed her stomach, the underside of her breasts. She was thinking this was the easiest punishment she'd ever had until his right hand suddenly rose and slapped down _hard_ on her hooded clit. Emma screamed, the sharp pain fading almost instantly to bone deep pleasure. Killian did it again and again, pausing between each blow to let her recover. Her arms started to fall but she wrenched them back above her head, chest heaving as she panted.

Three blows and he was done. The skin of her mound was a pleasing shade of pink; the sight made his cock twitch. “There's my good girl,” he whispered, soothing the skin with wet kisses. But he could smell her arousal; it was stronger than ever. “Did you like that?”

Emma shivered. “Y-yes.”

“Good to know.” He picked up the sketchbook and returned to his sketch. He shaded the delicate curve of her hips, the slopes of her thighs. This would be one of the most explicit drawings he'd ever done of her he mused as he captured her swollen sex. His hand shook a little; his arousal was fucking _painful_ now, it was affecting his concentration. As soon as he was finished, he tossed the book aside and bent, licking her with the flat of his tongue.

Emma jerked, unprepared; Killian spread her wider, mouth working her in earnest. She couldn't stop the movement of her hips, wantonly trying to ride his face. He pulled away long enough to strike her clit again. “Still.”

“I... _can't_ ,” she panted, fists gripping the scarves. “It's too much.”

“You can,” he said firmly. “I know you can.”

“Fuck.”

“Not until you beg.”

Emma screwed her face up, eyes firmly shut. That didn't really help as he got on his knees and yanked her down the chaise. She was on full display now, thighs parted as his mouth descended on her cunt. He kissed her there like he did her mouth, her arousal heavenly on his tongue. Emma's fingers curled around the top edge of the chaise; now she wished as  _ was _ tied to it, that would make it easier not to move.

He knew her well enough now to know when she was just about to explode; he backed off abruptly and Emma screamed in complaint. But when she opened her eyes Killian was jerking his pants off; she caught a glimpse of his thick red cock, which made her mouth water. He kicked away his jeans then took himself in hand, stroking firmly. Fuck, she loved watching him masterbate; it was weakness of hers.

“I know you like this,” he murmured, stepping closer to her head. “You love all things I can do to you with my cock.” She kept her mouth shut, eyes riveted. “Lower your arms and open your mouth.” She did, all too eager for what he was offering her. “Do _not_ touch yourself with those greedy fingers.” Emma balled her hands into fists as the head of his cock slipped past her lips.

Killian sighed as she took him in; she had such a sweet wet mouth. He fucked her mouth with shallow thrusts, reaching down to flick her clit. Her surprised moan went right through him but he didn't stop, just gritted his teeth through it. He kept it up until she was on the verge of orgasm, once again pulling his fingers away from her needy flesh.

“Damn it,” she whimpered as soon as could speak. She knew it was part of the game but she was wound as tight as she'd ever been in her life.

Killian skimmed his fingers down her belly...then struck her clit again. “You know how to make this stop, Emma. Let me hear you and I'll give you want you need.” Every few words were punctuated by a strike of her clit; she was so turned on, she was dripping onto the floor.

“ _Please!”_ she screamed at last. “Please, Killian.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me! I need to come! I need your cock in me! Please, please, please!”

He groaned in triumph, stepping between her legs. “On your knees, lass.” Emma scrambled to get on her knees; she had to balance on her still tied hands. The chaise wasn't wide enough for her to spread her knees very far; it made him feel that much bigger when he thrust deep inside her soaked cunt. Emma was so close to the edge already that within two thrusts she was coming, coming  _ hard,  _ screaming incoherently as he continued to fuck her. Killian bit his lip as she squeezed him; he wasn't ready to come yet. His fingers dug into her hips; she felt incredible.

Emma came down from her high, the thick slide of him easily building a second orgasm. She gripped the chaise, thrusting back against him, begging for more. He pulled out and she whimpered, instantly missing the feeling of being full. Killian flipped her back onto her back, capturing her lips in a desperate kiss as he sank inside her. Emma pulled her bound arms over his head, resting them on his shoulders. “Yes, Killian, yes,” she panted, between kisses. “Good,  _ fuck _ .”

“Again,” he bit out, his own high very close now. “Come again for me, Emma.”

“I need...harder, touch me!”

Killian wiggled a finger between them, rubbing her clit. It was throbbing from being struck, red and swollen. Emma's scream was muffled by his kiss; her body convulsed, the powerful climax ripping through her. Killian was dragged under with her, hot spurts of his seed shooting deep inside her. He rutted until he was spent, collapsing on top of her in a sweaty heap. He was vaguely aware of squashing her but he was too out of it to care.

Emma didn't complain, instead focused on trying to catch her breath. She was boneless, completely zapped. Her sensitive clit still throbbed a bit; she'd feel the spanking for a while. However, she thoroughly enjoyed it; she looked forward to all the ways their sex life could expand. Killian rolled off her at last; Emma edged over with the last of her strength to make room for him. Killian gathered her against his chest, lips skimming her damp brow. “Alright, love?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, eye still closed.

“I wasn't too rough?”

“Nope.”

He didn't argue with her; she knew her limits. He gently loosened the scarves and tossed them away then held her while they dozed; it was still fairly early in the evening. When he woke again, the room was cool, causing gooseflesh to rise on his skin. Emma was still sleeping, so he took it upon himself to carry her to their bed.

“Killian?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Hush, love. I just brought us to bed. That chaise is cramped.”

“Oh. Okay.” She started to doze again as he cleaned her sticky thighs and tucked her in. He went through the house, still nude, locking up and turning off the lights. When he came back, he expected her to be asleep. “Where'd you go?”

He smiled, slipping under the covers. “To lock up, darling. We wouldn't want thieves in our new home now, would we?”

“Definitely not.”

He kissed the crown of her head. “Go back to sleep, lass. We can finish the unpacking tomorrow.”

“Can we go exploring downtown instead? I'm kinda sick of looking at boxes.”

“That's a good idea actually. I've read it's very pedestrian friendly.”

“We can scout a running route too. I miss running with you.”

“Aye, definitely a highlight of my day.”

“Not all the sex?” she teased.

He growled and rolled over, kissing her deeply. “Anything we do  _ together _ is a highlight, my love.”

She giggled. “I can agree with that.” She found his hand, threading their fingers together. “I love you, Killian.”

“I love you, too, Emma.” She surprised him by leaning up to kiss him, getting his heart racing again. Emma held him close, more than content for this to be the rest of her life.

 


	28. A Christmas Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months post epilogue, Emma comes home to a Christmas surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second of the December AU prompts! Enjoy!

Emma rubbed her eyes; the words on the page were getting hard to discern. That could be because she'd spent the better part of the last two weeks in the library, both working and doing research. Her only break had been when Ingrid visited for Thanksgiving. As soon as her mother got back on the plane to Boston, Emma had returned to the library. Her first semester of law school was demanding, more demanding than she had anticipated.

She didn't know how she'd have made it without Killian there, making sure she slept, ate. Simple things that kept her reasonably alert and functional.

“We're closing, Emma,” her boss, Mrs. Sandhurst, said quietly.

“What time is it?”

“Midnight, dear.” Emma liked the kindly older woman; she'd been at the law library for decades. She was well on her way to replacing Granny as the grandmother Emma had never had. “Will you be okay to drive?”

Emma sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Traffic shouldn't be terrible this late.” She did feel a twinge of sadness though. Killian would surely be in bed by the time she got home. She missed him. “Good night, Mrs. S.”

“Good night, Emma. Be safe.”

Emma packed her bag and headed for the exit. It was a cool night; one of the advantages of living on the West Coast was it stayed warmer longer than back East. She wore a light jacket over her Stanford sweater and leggings; a year ago she'd been bundled up in a winter coat and scarf. But some things hadn't changed. Emma still had her Bug, the old Volkswagen starting up readily. Killian insisted on having the old car serviced not long after they arrived in California; Emma had rolled her eyes, but as always, it was just Killian's way. He liked taking care of her and she was getting more comfortable with letting him.

She turned onto their street, taking in all the Christmas decorations. If it wasn't for the inflatable Santas and snowmen, you'd never know it was Christmas time. They hadn't had time to decorate; Emma wasn't even sure they would since they'd be headed for London again this year.

As the Bug approached their driveway, Emma frowned. There were lights in the palm tree. Red and white lights wrapped around the thick trunk, making it look like a candy cane. It definitely had _not_ looked like that when she left that morning. What was going on?

She grabbed her bag and went to unlock the door; the house was dark aside from the Christmas themed palm tree. Her jacket went into the closet along with her bag; she wondered where Killian was. Had he done the tree all by himself? She flipped on the light in the living room, a gasp falling from her lips.

A tall Christmas tree sat in front of the large bay window, completely decorated. White lights twinkled back at her, a star rested on the top. Some of the ornaments looked handmade; she caught sight of her blown glass swan in a prominent place toward the top. A beautiful handmade tree skirt lay under it. Some of their art had been swapped out for Christmas themed statuary, including a twelve inch tall Santa Claus, complete with sleigh and reindeer.

Best of all, Killian lay on their couch, fast asleep.

Emma knelt down beside him, heart clenching with love for this man, who had clearly spent an entire day decorating their home for her. She smiled fondly, brushing his hair back away from his face. He stirred, sleepily nuzzling her palm. “Mmmm.”

“Killian?”

He grunted, reluctantly opening his eyes. “Emma...what time is it?”

“After midnight. I just got home.”

He yawned, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Oh. Sorry.”

“What could you possibly be sorry for?”

“I meant...ugh, to surprise you.”

She snorted. “You did, babe,” she assured him, glancing toward the tree. “Consider me very surprised.”

Killian stretched and moved to sit up. “I didn't mean to fall asleep. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

Emma moved to sit next to him, curling herself into his side. “Well, you did do the work of a small army, so I think you're entitled.”

He smiled into her hair. “Do you like it?”

She nodded. “I love it. Thank you.”

His fingers combed through her hair. “I wish I could have seen your face.”

Emma raised her head. “I'm pretty sure it looked like this.” She dropped her jaw and did an approximation of her stunned face. Killian laughed, lips skimming her brow. She cupped his cheeks and drew his mouth to hers, giving him a slow, thorough thank you kiss.

Killian tightened his arms around her; god, he'd missed her the last few weeks. Her school schedule was demanding and he understood. It made him more determined to cherish the quiet moments they did get and even create a few along the way. Emma sighed, hand sliding over his neck as she angled her head, deepening the kiss.

When they broke for air, Killian deftly moved her into his lap. “How was school?”

“I got a lot of research done. Until Mrs. S kicked me out of the library.”

“Remind me to get that woman a gift; without her, I'd never see you.”

Emma smiled, tucking her head under his chin. “That's not true.”

“It's almost true.”

She sighed tiredly. “I'm definitely glad I came home tonight.”

“As am I.”

“I can't believe you did all this.”

“What would our first home be without a Christmas tree?”

“It's beautiful. Is it real?”

He kissed the crown of her head. “Unfortunately not. There wouldn't be anyone to water it while we're in London.”

“Good point. But I like it.”

“It's not quite finished though.” He reached over the arm of the couch and picked up another hand wrapped box. He handed it to Emma.

“What's this?”

“Open it and see.”

Emma peeled the paper away and lifted the lid. Nestled in the soft batting was another blown glass ornament, this one a red Stanford S. She picked up and turned it over. Etched into the back was another inscription:  _Our Second First Christmas, 2016._

She burst out laughing. “Second first Christmas?”

He grinned. “Aye, this is our first in a home of our own. I thought it was worth commemorating.”

Emma laid the ornament back inside its box and cupped his cheek. “It's silly and perfect and I love you very much.”

He smiled at her, turning his head to kiss her palm. “Love you too, lass.” Emma bit her lip as his soft lips skimmed her palm. He smirked, tongue darting out to lick her skin. She inhaled sharply, a jolt of lust shooting through her. He peppered her skin with more kisses, his blue eyes locked with hers as he kissed the pad of each finger and sucked the index into his mouth.

“Killian...”

“Are you tired?” he asked, lips pressing against her now fluttering pulse.

She wet her lips. “Not anymore.” She shifted, straddling his hips. She kissed him firmly; Killian fumbled for the remote he procured. The overhead lights went out, leaving them with the twinkling light of the Christmas tree.

“How did you...?”

Killian pressed his finger to her lips. “I'll explain later. Let me make love to you, darling.”

She nodded, leaning down to kiss him again. As they kissed, he worked his hands under the hem of her sweater, seeking out her soft warm skin. Emma moaned softly, his touch teasing. He pulled the cups of her bra aside and fondled her breasts; in moments, her nipples were painfully erect. He kissed along her jaw and down the column of her throat, sucking a needy mark into her skin.

“Killian...god.”

“Missed you,” he mumbled, soothing the mark with his tongue. “So much.”

She nodded hard. “Me too.” She laced her fingers into his dark hair, back arching. She was sweltering in her sweater but she didn't want him to stop touching her. Killian unhooked her bra, then peeled the sweater and bra off her. His mouth was on her breast before she could breathe, suckling hard on the aching bud. Emma keened, hips rocking, writhing in his hold. They'd both been busy the last few weeks, aside from a quickie or two in their shower, there hadn't been time to indulge in their passion. More than a year after they met, his touch still set her on fire.

Killian thrust his hips up, letting her feel how much he needed her. The light from the tree shown on her pale skin; he could just make out her flush. He swirled his tongue around her other nipple; Emma's breathing hitched, another wave of lust pooling between her legs. She kept one hand in his hair and slipped the other between them, hand sliding over the front of her leggings.

“Needy, sweetheart?” Killian rasped, squeezing her ass firmly.

She nodded. “God yes.”

“Can I watch?” he asked, teeth scraping her nipple. “Can I watch you touch yourself?”

Emma groaned, the image already seared into her brain. “Please.”

“Here, spread out for me, love.” He maneuvered her onto the couch, gripping her leggings and yanking them down her lean legs, panties and all. He groaned at the sight of her glistening cunt. He was so thankful he'd twisted the couch around to face the tree; he'd imagined them there, relaxing in front of their pretty tree with a glass or two of wine. But as he took in her nude body, flushed and wanting, he knew this was better than anything he'd imagined.

Emma bit her lip, her fingers dancing over her skin. She spread her legs, eyes locked with his. She let out a soft moan as her fingers brushed her clit, the sensitive nub was aching and swollen. Her hips rocking unconsciously as she rubbed in slow deliberate circles, intent on putting on a show for him.

“Bloody hell you're gorgeous,” he mumbled, hand resting on his crotch. He settled on the floor, opening the fly of his pants. Emma nodded approvingly, her other hand drifting up to her breast. She kneaded and squeezed, the extra stimulation making her clit throb. He smirked. “Dirty girl.”

“You know it.” She flicked her clit, her fingers getting slick from her arousal. Killian was grinning at her lecherously, fingers lightly rubbing his cock. The tip was leaking precum; when he swiped it with his thumb she hissed, hips thrusting up. “Jesus.”

“Blaspheming in front of the tree? Fuck, I love you.” He wet his lips, eyes moving back to her slick flesh. Emma dipped her fingers toward her entrance, teasing, nail scraping the edge. She groaned loudly, a single digit slightly pressing forward. “That's it, that's my girl.”

Emma arched her back, still teasing herself, turned on by him watching her. She rocked into her own touch, finger going deeper, adding a second. She moaned, walls clenching, the pressure building. “God, Killian...fuck.”

“Oh, I'm gonna fuck you, Emma. I'm gonna fuck that cunt so good.”

“Oh god.” Her thumb rubbed her clit as she lowered her gaze to his cock. He was giving her a bit of a show too, stroking, rutting up into his hand. She wanted him in her so badly, but she didn't want to stop, couldn't stop. If she did, she'd scream from want. She started pumping her fingers in earnest, chasing her orgasm. Killian scooted closer, mesmerized by her in all her wanton glory. She curled her fingers just right, body shuddering. Her stomach trembled, walls fluttering, breathing shallow. She whimpered, needing just a little more to drive her over the edge. A cry fell from her lips as she came, eyes squeezing shut.

Killian watched her ride it out, his large hands skimming up her quivering thighs. He inhaled her scent; she was intoxicating. Her fingers slid out; Killian ducked down to lick them clean. He hummed at her taste, hands holding her thighs apart. “Do you still want me, love?”

Emma chewed on her lip, skin tingling where he was touching her. “God yes.”

He kicked his pants away, moving to kneel between her splayed thighs. He leaned forward and captured her lips in a passionate kiss; Emma mewled, his cock brushing her sensitive folds. She pawed at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, needing to feel his skin. Killian broke the kiss and caught her eyes, holding her gaze as the very tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. Emma went still, her breathing hitching as he pushed in slowly. Before she could gasp, Killian was kissing her again, keeping his thrusts slow and measured. Emma redoubled her effort with his shirt; she ripped at least two buttons in her haste to get it off. Her nails raked hard down his back the moment it was bared; Killian grunted, hips jerking.

“So impatient,” he growled. “But fuck, you feel so good, Emma.”

Emma sucked on his pouting lower lip, hitching her leg up over his hip. He sank even deeper inside her and she hissed. “Don't fucking stop.”

“Did you miss me, darling? Miss what I can do to you?”

Emma squeezed his ass, back arching in pleasure. “You know I did.”

Her low moan was swallowed by his kiss, the long thick drag of him making her crazy. She didn't know how long they were at it, just slowly fucking, savoring every touch of skin. “Could fuck this cunt forever,” Killian whispered, breath hot in her ear. “Fucking hell.”

“Please,” Emma whimpered, her body seemingly suspended on the precipice. Her second high had built so slowly, it caught her by surprise. But she desperately needed to fall. She needed him to catch her. “Please let me come.”

Killian reared up, hips stuttering. He pressed his forehead to hers, clutching at her hand as he thrust harder, faster, hitting bottom. Emma cried out. He was so deep inside her, she shivered in pleasure. Her hand curled around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. They were connected in every way, chasing their highs. He reached between them and flicked her swollen clit; Emma broke the kiss with a gasp. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she cried, her climax shattering across her vision. Her heel dug into his ass as she bucked under him, her wet walls squeezing him. He fucked her through it, drawing it out until he tumbled after her, cock pulsing inside her. He cried out hoarsely, rutting until he was spent.

Emma panted, skin coated in sweat. Blindly, she found Killian's lips, kissing him weakly, just a brief brush of lips. He was reluctant to move, to be parted from her, but he kissed her nose and forced himself to push off and roll to her left. He missed the couch and hit the floor; he groaned. Emma tried to laugh but it came out more like a pained wheeze. She slithered to the floor beside him, head falling to rest on his shoulder. Killian held her hand as she caught her breath, his cheek resting on the crown of her head.

“Love? Are you awake?”

“Hmm?” Emma hummed sleepily.

He smiled indulgently. “Did we wear you out?”

“I think I was pretty tired already.”

“Should I apologize?”

She snuggled against him. “Hell no.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Bed time?”

“In a minute.”

“Sex in front of the tree. That's a new one.”

She chuckled. “Not exactly what I expected when I came home.”

“A good surprise?”

“The best. You did a beautiful job on the tree.”

“And not on you?” he teased.

“I don't want to move. Does that answer your question?”

“Shall I carry you?”

“I can make it. Maybe help me up?”

He kissed her temple, unwinding from her to help her up. They walked hand in hand to their bedroom, leaving their clothes to be collected in the morning. Emma stopped by the bathroom on her way to bed; she smiled at her reflection. She looked tired but happy, her hair mussed. By the time she got to bed, Killian was settled, holding out his arms for her. Emma kissed him slowly, her hand covering his heart. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

“Happy Christmas, Emma.”

The next day they placed their new ornament on their tree, continuing what would come to be a family tradition.

 


	29. The Little Back Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian enjoy a night out, and it takes a sexy turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another December Prompt! This takes place during the summer, before Emma starts law school!

He was slowly going mad. Why had he agreed to this? _Because you'd give her anything she asked for, you ponce,_ he answered himself.

They'd been in the capital for a month, Emma working diligently on her internship. Killian was very proud of her, even though he didn't get to spend as much time with her as he liked. But he knew it was important and likely a preview of her time in law school, so he spent his time working on his art and visiting the local museums. They were happy, settling into a rhythm.

He made a point of making the most of the rare quiet evening, cooking for her or taking her out for dinner and a movie. This weekend, his carefully made plans got upended by Emma's friends surprising them with a visit. He was helpless against her pleading emerald eyes when Ruby suggested they go out to one of the local clubs. He typically found such places far too loud, the bass making it impossible to hear himself _think._ But Emma wished it, so here he was sitting in a booth nursing a drink while Emma, Ruby and Elsa danced together and had a good time.

He'd danced with her earlier, but quickly bowed out; this was a time for friends. He did get great enjoyment from observing her, even if it felt like his eardrums would burst. The alcohol numbed the annoyance just enough to make it bearable.

She was wearing a tight black sheath that masqueraded as a dress. She looked fantastic, golden hair tumbling down her back in artful curls, platform heels emphasizing her legs and ass. She'd been coy about her outfit, flagrantly flirting with him every chance she got. She was transformed from his studious, sexy-without-trying Emma to a bloody vixen intent on driving him and every other male in the vicinity insane with lust.

If he wasn't certain that she got off on making him crazy, he'd almost be jealous.

Still, that didn't mean they couldn't have fun with it.

He downed the rest of his drink and motioned for another. As it arrived, Emma came back, sliding effortlessly into the little booth, pressing close to him. Her eyes were bright and playful, a smirk playing about her lips. He smiled indulgently down at her, lips brushing her temple. “Having fun, love?”

She stole his drink and took a healthy sip. “Hmm, that's good.”

“Thirsty?”

“Maybe a little.” Killian curled an arm around her shoulders, motioning for another round. Emma laid her hand suggestively on his thigh, under the table, out of sight, using it as leverage to lean up and kiss him. His fingers tightened on her bare shoulder as the kiss deepened, her hand creeping up higher and higher. “You taste like rum,” she said, licking her lips.

“So do you.” He brushed her ear with his lips. “I look forward to tasting more of you later.”

Emma shivered; she wasn't drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. She had a plan, so she didn't want to get too inebriated. As much as she appreciated her friends' efforts to get her out of the apartment she and Killian were renting, she was more interested in what would happen when they got home. She'd dressed to kill purposely, wanting to spice things up.

Not that they were boring. Honestly, Emma didn't think they could ever be boring. He was constantly surprising her with little gestures; he was genuinely loving and supportive and she adored him for it. But she craved the intense passion they shared, annoyed that her internship robbed them of moments. Too often this summer she came home tired but pleased; she was learning so much. But she missed Killian. It was a challenge, balancing her work with her home life. Coming home, knowing he would be there, was her favorite time of day.

Her drink arrived, along with a tall glass of water. Reluctantly, she disengaged from him to take a long pull. “Much better.”

“You never answered my original question, darling,” Killian murmured.

“Huh?”

He smiled. “I asked if you were having fun.”

“Oh. Yeah. I can't remember the last time I danced like this.”

“All you have to do is say the word, love.”

She smiled at him over her glass. “You hate this, admit it.”

“I don't _hate_ it. I'm merely selfish.”

“No, you're not.”

“When it comes to you, I most certainly am. But I think you like that, lass.” He curled a lock of her hair around his finger, tugging gently.

She shivered, her hand moving over his thigh. Killian always made it clear that she was his priority, the thing he loved the most. She had to admit it was a heady feeling. She'd never had anyone so dedicated to making her happy. After her lonely childhood, it was perfect. He was perfect. “Maybe I do.”

He tipped her chin, pressing his lips to hers in a brief intense kiss. “You look smashing, Emma. Have I told you that yet?”

Her lips quirked up in a flash before she was kissing him again, pulling him closer in the narrow booth. “No, but tell me more.”

He chuckled. “This tiny dress is making me crazy. So much skin on display.”

Why were they out in the open? Why was the booth so narrow? She wanted to crawl into his lap and kiss him breathless. “You draw me naked all the time.”

“Aye, but undressing you is just as fun.”

“You've been undressing me with your eyes all night.”

“So has every man in here.”

“Jealous?”

He growled softly. “No, because I know you're going home with me.”

She wet her lips. “Damn straight.” She seized him by the collar and kissed him hard. “Dance with me.”

“Emma...”

“I want your hands on me,” she whispered in his ear. “I want everyone in here to know I'm yours.”

He blew out a breath. “Bloody hell, you are just asking for it, love.”

“For what?”

“I'm a gentleman, but sometimes I don't want to be.”

“So don't.” She skimmed her hand over his crotch. “I want you to take me home. Tie me up. Spank me. Fuck me.” His breathing got more shallow as she spoke, wicked images filling his head. _“After_ you dance with me.”

“I love you so much, Emma.”

“Love you, too, babe. Only you.”

Killian snatched up his rum and downed it in one gulp. Emma did the same with her drink, then chased it with water, a shiver running down her spine as Killian toyed with her hair. She couldn't wait to get home and let him have his way with her. During their Christmas vacation, she'd gotten to play with him; she was anxious to have him return the favor.

She slid out of the booth, holding his hand, urging him to follow. She nodded to her friends as they approached the dance floor. Ruby was having a ball, more than slightly tipsy, and gave her the thumbs up. Elsa was nearby, keeping an eye out, always the sensible friend. Emma loved them dearly, had shared some much needed girl time earlier in the evening. Now she was all about her smoldering hot boyfriend.

The beat of the music thumped deep in her gut as Killian spun her around. She bit her lip as she pressed up against him, his large hands holding her by the hips. His fingers rubbed over her dress making the material bunch slightly over and over. She wrapped her arms around his neck as their hips swayed to the heavy beat. He stared down at her with those blue eyes, his gaze burning through her, making her _want._

The song changed and Emma spun around, sighing softly as Killian's hands slid over her stomach. She ground against him, the buzz in her veins making her bolder than she would otherwise be. But she liked the way he held her, the growing bulge against her ass. Killian groaned in her ear, thrusting his hips against her. “Bloody minx,” he whispered, hands gliding over her curves. “You are shameless tonight, love.”

She threaded her fingers through his, holding his hand possessively over her belly. “That a problem?” she purred, turning her head to kiss his scruffy jaw.

“Hell no.” He tipped her face up with his free hand, kissing her breathless, right there in front of the whole club. Emma felt her knees weaken; she clutched at his neck to hold herself up. She felt sexy and powerful, knowing he was hers.

“Take me home,” she pleaded softly.

“Aye, you've been a very naughty girl, lass.” He pinched her ass once before taking her hand and guiding her toward the door. She knew Ruby and Elsa would be okay; they'd agreed to have lunch before her friends left. Tonight was hers.

The air crackled in the car as Killian drove them back to their rented apartment. Emma was even more shameless, her hand wandering over his thighs and crotch as he drove. He'd rarely see her so blatantly wanton, but he didn't dare ask her to stop. She worked so hard; she deserved to indulge in her sexuality any time she wished.

It was just something he could punish her for once he got her home. Which he suspected was her plan all along.

He shut off the engine with a jerky nod, knocking her hand away as he unbuckled the seatbelt. Emma shivered as she exited the car and followed him to the elevator to their apartment. Blessedly, it was empty and Killian instantly pressed her into the wall, kissing her roughly. “You are bloody well trying to kill me, lass,” he growled.

“I need you,” she muttered, moaning as his lips latched onto her throat. “So much.”

“You'll get what you want,” he promised darkly. The door dinged open and they stumbled out, Killian's arm tightly around her waist. He managed to unlock the door to their place and urge her inside. “Bedroom. Now.”

Emma giggled and obeyed, her shoes clacking heavily on the hardwood floors. Killian stripped off his jacket and vest, rolling up the sleeves to his shirt. He adjusted his pants; she'd done a number on him already, her sexy seductress pushing all of his buttons. He found Emma bending over, reaching under the bed, which made her dress ride up.

She wasn't wearing anything under it.

“Bloody hell.”

Emma straightened, holding out a small box. “I got this a while ago...after Manchester. Would you...use it on me?”

Killian accepted the box with a quirk of his brow. When he opened it, he found a medium sized paddle inside. He caressed it, glancing at Emma, who was waiting expectantly. “You're serious.” He remembered well her using a ruler on him and loving every second. Ever since he'd imagined disciplining her in a similar fashion, but only if she wanted it. He'd never hurt her on purpose, his very soul rebelled against that.

Emma clenched her thighs together, seeing him hold it made her even wetter than she already was. “Please? We talked about it, remember?”

“I remember.” He laid the paddle aside, taking her face in his hands gently. “And you're sure? You want this?”

She nodded. “I know you won't hurt me.” She guided his hand between her legs; he groaned. She was so hot and slick already. “See? I need it.”

He flicked her clit and she hissed. Her legs opened wider, so eager for his touch. “You.” He kissed her lips. “Are.” A kiss to her throat. “Perfect.” A kiss to the swell on her breast. His hands moved to her ass, grabbing her firmly and dragging her against him. Emma mewled; she could feel his stiff cock through their clothes. He kneaded and squeezed the globes of her ass, skirt riding up and bunching around her waist. “And such a dirty girl with no underthings.”

Emma gripped his biceps, her knees wobbly. “They just get in the way, don't you think?”

Rather than answer, he unzipped the back and pulled the tight fabric from her body. He weighed her breasts in his palms, thumbing the hardening peaks. “No one gets to see you like this except me.”

She nodded in agreement. “Only you.”

“Kneel in the middle of the bed, knees spread. Face the wall.”

Emma bit her lip and scrambled to obey. Her clit was throbbing painfully but she couldn't do anything about it with her knees spread. She heard him moving around, opening drawers, looking for something. She'd hidden a restraint in her underwear drawer; she knew he found it when she heard his grunt of triumph. She'd wanted this for a long time; she knew he'd be good at it. She trusted him implicitly.

Killian peeled off his shirt; he was already far too hot. When he returned to Emma, he skimmed the scarf over her flushed skin, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. He kissed along her shoulders and the back of her neck as he guided her hands behind her back, where he deftly tied them together, crossing at the wrists. “Too tight, darling?”

Emma wiggled; her arms were trapped, but it didn't hurt or chafe. Rather a zing of want rolled down her spine with more wetness pooling between her legs. “No.”

“You know how this works?”

“Yeah.”

“So if you want me to release you, you say...”

“Deposition?”

“Perfect.” He kissed her deeply, fingers tracing her spine. He moved behind her, also kneeling, hands sliding up her ribs. He thrust his crotch against her ass as he stroked her skin. He nibbled on her neck, touch moving higher, finding her nipples. She was very aroused, the sensitive flesh engorged and rosy. He rolled them between his thumb and index finger; Emma arched her back, leaning back against his naked chest. “Oh, oh yes.”

“Hmm, you were a very naughty girl, Emma,” he purred in her ear. “Dancing like that, letting those men watch you. Making _me_ watch you.”

“I thought...oh...that you liked watching?”

He roughly pinched her right nipple. “I do, but that view is for my eyes only.”

“Sorry?”

He chuckled. “But you're not _truly_ sorry, are you, love? You wanted us like this, you at my mercy, ready to _punish_ you.”

She nodded helplessly. “Yes! Yes! I want to know what it feels like.”

He tugged on her bonds, jerking her shoulders back a bit. It was only a tiny twinge, nothing she couldn't handle and it made her burn hotter. “How does it feel, hmm? Tell me.”

She sucked in a breath. “It feels...fuck, it's good,” she whimpered. “I'm so wet, I need more.”

He pushed her down roughly at the waist; she was just quick enough to turn her head. “Then more you shall have.” He traced his way down her bound arms, then fondled her ass. He spread her cheeks and licked at her hole, making her groan. “Not tonight, love.” She whined in protest, but softened as he reached down to stroke her clit. “You're already drenched and I've hardly touched you.”

“Please,” she begged. She didn't quite understand this yearning she had for him to spank her, but she needed it. Needed him to let her feel it. “Please.”

His cock twitched; he did love to hear her beg. He smoothed his hand over the curve of her ass with one hand and grabbed the new paddle with the other. He let it graze her skin a few times and Emma squirmed; the anticipation was almost killing her. Then he took her by surprise, striking one cheek with a sharp crack. She cried out, the sting fading into intense pleasure. He soothed the sting with a gentle hand before hitting her again, swiftly, on the other cheek.

“Oh my _god,”_ Emma moaned, stunned by her body's reaction. She was helpless to control it, wetness sliding down her thighs. It was better than she imagined, another deep moan tumbling from her lips as Killian struck her again.

He soothed the bite of the paddle with hand and lips; her skin was warm to the touch. “You love this,” he whispered, stroking the pinking skin. “My dirty lass.”

“Please, please, please,” she chanted, her fingers curled into fists. She cried out in pleasure as he struck again and again, never striking the same place twice, varying the pressure. It was indescribable, erotic and intense, the first tendrils of her orgasm coiling in her belly. Killian stopped when her skin was a deep pink; he had no desire to mark her. She was quivering, moans and whimpers a litany on her lips. He'd never seen her so aroused, soaked and needy. He couldn't help himself; he ducked his head, flicking his tongue out to taste her.

Emma screamed, her body detonating. She saw stars, coming and coming _hard_ , Killian's mouth on her, drinking her down. He hummed against her and she shook, aftershocks rippling through her. He coaxed her down as gently as he could; she was so gorgeous like this he could hardly stand it.

He loosened his pants, rolling to strip them down his legs. He untied Emma, soothing her wrists with kisses. She sighed, nuzzling his chest. He whispered words of love and praise to her, laying flat on his back and idling stroking himself, waiting for her word. She watched him, fascinated by the way his hand moved. She kissed his shoulder, lips warm on his skin. It was slow and lazy as she worked her way across his chest, letting her arousal build. Killian combed his free hand through her curls, tugging her closer. Eventually she climbed on top of him, easing his hand away and dragging her slickness over his long cock.

“Fuck,” he swore, hands finding her breasts. “Are you gonna ride me, love? Love it when you ride me.”

She moaned, arching. “Just don't...fuck...stop touching me.”

“Never.” Emma bent down and kissed him hard before rising up to impale herself. She was so wet that he slid in completely, filling her to the brim. He always felt so good, thick and long; he dragged along her walls deliciously. She writhed in his lap, hands braced on his chest, head thrown back. Killian watched her; he loved the way she moved. He memorized every line and curve, determined to recreate her beauty on the page. He heeded her demand, hands stroking her thighs, her hips. He found her clit and circled the swollen nub; Emma jerked and moaned.

“Oh fuck yes,” she hissed.

“Come for me again, Emma.” He squeezed the heated flesh of her ass and she groaned. “Again.”

She moved faster, seeking her pleasure, urging him to rub her harder. He lifted his hips in time with her thrusts, sinking even deeper inside her wet heat. They both cried out; Emma was so close, she scratched her nails hard down his chest as she rode him. She lost her rhythm but it didn't matter; she fell with a sharp cry of his name, walls gripping his cock. Killian gritted his teeth as she she rode it out before flipping them over and driving into her. He pinned her hands above her head, taking her with hard sharp thrusts. More aftershocks rocked her—or was it another orgasm? She couldn't tell, too far gone in her haze—when he finally spilled himself inside her heat, chanting her name over and over.

Killian sagged against her, vaguely aware of how uncomfortable she must be. Still, it took him a full minute to muster the will to roll off her. She whimpered at the loss, curling in a bit. They were both drenched in sweat, but sated. He lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed the back of it, too exhausted to speak. Eventually, he forced himself up, off to fetch something to clean them up.

Emma sat up—sort of. She mostly propped herself against the pillows of their bed. Her ass still stung a little but she didn't regret a single minute. It was everything she hoped it would be. Killian returned and handed her the washcloth. “How do you feel?” he asked, a worried crease in his brow.

“Good. Maybe thirsty?” The alcohol that made her brave had burned away in the intensity of their lovemaking; she was parched.

“Back in a mo,” he said, heading to the little kitchen. Emma finished cleaning up and went to the bathroom. She got back the same time he did; his frown deepened. “Emma?”

She pulled back the covers and climbed in. “Thanks,” she said accepting the glass. She downed the water in two gulps and immediately felt better.

Killian placed her new paddle back in its box. “Still good?” he asked.

She stretched. “Hey, stop that,” she scolded, patting the bed next to her. He joined her, setting his own glass aside. She pulled him down to her, kissing him sweetly. “That was _amazing_.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. I told you, you wouldn't hurt me.”

“Why the paddle?” he asked curiously, stroking her cheek.

She shrugged. “I used a ruler on you. I thought next time we could try something more...substantial.”

“Hmm, I did enjoy that.”

“I remember.” She kissed him again, deeper this time. “I like that we can talk about this stuff, explore. Don't you?”

He gathered her in his arms. “I do, love. I've never had this kind of...intimacy before. But I don't want to push you too far.”

“This was my idea, remember? _Both_ times. A little credit?”

He laughed. “Of course.”

She raised her head, chin, resting on her arms. “I've missed you, us, these last couple of weeks. And you've been so great about everything. Thank you.”

“Your dreams are important to me, Emma. You know that.”

She smiled, blushing. “I know. But I want to make sure there's room for us. I'm selfish enough to want both.”

“I know exactly how you feel, my love. We'll figure it out. Together.”

She lay back down, nuzzling his chest. “Bath tomorrow?”

“Hmm, that sounds nice. We'll rub some lotion on your bum too.”

“It's okay.”

“If you want me to spank you, at least let me take care of you after, sweetheart. I'm rather fond of your bum.”

She giggled. “Just that? I see how it is.”

He moved in a flash, tackling her to the bed. “I love your _everything,_ Emma. Don't ever doubt that.”

She grinned up at him, before pulling him down for a toe curling kiss.

 


	30. Spring Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian are on Spring Break and decide to try something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another December Prompt. Lots of requests for this one. ;)

Emma stretched out on the large beach towel, a book propped up on her bag. Killian had gone for a swim; she wasn't quite ready to jump in the water yet. He would no doubt tease her about being on Spring Break and doing schoolwork, but she actually wasn't. She was reading for fun for a change. The Captain America omnibus had been calling her name since Killian bought it for her. It was “congratulations for getting into Stanford” gift and she loved it.

Unfortunately, she'd only let herself read it as a treat when she was caught up on work.

She was secure enough that she didn't watch Killian's every move like a hawk, even though she'd spotted several people ogling him when they got to the beach. She got lost in her book until a certain dripping shadow blocked her light.

“Having fun with the Captain, love?”

She pushed her sunglasses up, swallowing at the sight of him. Damn, he looked amazing wet, inky hair a mess. “Yeah. Nice swim?”

He shrugged. “It was okay. Water's warming up still.”

“Another reason for me to stay here.”

He flopped down on the towel beside her. “You'd come all the way to the beach and not swim?”

She moved to sit up, crossing her legs. “I thought we came to _relax_ ,” she teased.

He leaned closer, stroking her cheek with wet fingers. “And I thought we came so I could ogle you in that scrap you call a bikini, lass.”

She rolled her eyes. “You've seen me in less.”

“Aye, but these people don't know that,” he said in a low voice. “They don't know all the things I've done to this body. All the things I want to do to you.”

She leaned closer, her lips a hairsbreadth away from his. “What things?”

His hand slid down her back and cupped her ass. “Dirty sinful things, love. If you think you can handle it.”

She shivered, wiggling in his hold. They'd done a little experimentation in that department, mostly with the plug she'd gotten for him for his birthday (along with more sedate gifts, like a new Manchester United kit). He'd fucked her with the plug in and she felt it for days afterward. Best birthday-that-wasn't-hers ever.

She closed the gap and pressed her mouth hotly to his, relishing his low moan. “You brought it, didn't you?”

He nodded, stealing another hungry kiss. He didn't care that there were surely people watching them. He only had eyes for Emma. “Want that so much, Emma,” he whispered against her lips. He'd been pleasantly surprised when it was _she_ who brought it up, gifting him that plug. He loved her willingness try new things, to be open with her sexuality.

“Maybe if you're good, you'll get it.” She placed her lips next to his ear. “I've imagined it,” she admitted. “You fucking me there. And it's all your fault.”

He squeezed her ass hard, suppressed a moan. His cock was hard just from that, her admission that she wanted to give him that last part of her. “You are a bloody vixen, lass.”

She grinned, moving back to her own space. “Problem, babe?” she asked innocently.

He growled softly. “I think you know.”

She glanced down at the bulge in his trunks. Only the angle of his legs hid his considerable erection from prying eyes. “Hmm, that looks like a big problem.”

“Care to help me with it?”

She looked out toward the ocean. There was a little cove a little way down the beach. She nodded toward it. “Race you?”

He'd hardly gotten a glimpse of where she was pointing before she was gone, dashing through the sand. He shook his head and hurried after her, splashing into the water. Emma was a good swimmer and she giggled as Killian attempted to catch her. She had to dodge a few other people but made her way to the little alcove. When she came up for air, she almost instantly got yanked under by wandering hands and she yelped, splashing and spluttering. “Killian?”

His deep laugh rumbled against her back. “Aye, lass, it's me.” He held her by the waist as she squirmed. “Enjoy your fun?”

She only half heartedly struggled; she enjoyed his arms around her. “Maybe. I thought we could have more though,” she said huskily.

“Here?” He licked at the salty water sticking to her skin. “Such a dirty girl. I love it.”

“You gonna talk or do something about it then?”

He spun her around and pressed her back into the alcove. The hard rock dug into her back but she hardly felt it. She felt brazen and free as he fused his mouth to hers. She reached under the water and stroked him through his trunks, quickly bringing him back to full hardness. “Fuck, Emma.”

She laughed, giving him a firm squeeze. “Oh, you're gonna _fuck Emma_ , buddy,”she muttered in his ear. “Want you so bad. And later, I want you to fuck my ass. You want that, don't you, babe?”

“God yes. Please.”

“And I'll be completely _yours_. No one else.”

He shook his head, rutting into her hand. “No, never.” He kissed her hard, hand sliding under the water to push her bikini bottoms aside. She groaned as he stroked her slick flesh. “Hmm, a bit of an exhibitionist, darling? Wanting me to fuck you so close to all these people. Hidden by a tiny rock wall. Bloody fuck, I love you.” This wasn't the first time they'd gotten frisky in a public setting. She'd dry humped him in a theater, then rode her own fingers until she fell apart in front of his eyes.

She ground her hips into his touch. “Yes,” she whimpered. “God, just get in me, Killian. Please.”

He impatiently yanked his trunks down far enough to release his length and Emma promptly wrapped his legs around his waist. She was whimpering into his neck as he sank inside her, the water letting her bounce easily on his cock. They both moaned, quickly fusing their mouths together to muffle the sound. He held her by the hips, guiding her, her tight heat surrounding him. They could make out the sounds from the nearby swimmers, people none the wiser to the dirty sex going on under their noses. “So hot,” he whispered against her lips. “So _fucking_ hot, sweetheart. Such a naughty girl letting me fuck you where anyone could find us.”

Emma moved faster, getting more aroused by the second. He always felt incredible inside her, but there was something about this that threatened her sanity. Her nails dug into his back as she rode him, angling her hips until he bottomed out. “Jesus,” she panted. “So good.”

“God, come, lass. Lemme feel it.”

She leaned back against the rock wall, riding as him hard, the water aiding her movements. Killian mauled her breast with a shaking hand, pinching the aching nipple. Emma had to bite her lip to muffle her scream, her climax ripping through her. Killian held her tightly, taking her with sharp snaps of his hips, uncaring at the way the water splashed around them. He fell with a muffled cry, his head buried in the crook of her shoulder.

Emma clutched at him, spent. They leaned heavily on the rock wall, finding a little ledge to sit Emma down on. They kissed languidly, in no hurry to return to the beach. “Wow,” she muttered.

“Hmm. Can't say I expected that, darling.”

“But you loved it.”

“I'm also a greedy bastard,” he teased.

“And you like sex.”

“So do you.”

“Yep,” she confirmed with a smirk. “Good thing I found someone who can keep up.” In truth, sex had been more of an itch to be scratched very occasionally before she met Killian. But this kind of connection was too good to pass up.

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Ready to go back? I think we've earned a few more hours of relaxation, don't you?”

“Definitely.”

No one seemed the wiser as they swam back to the beach. After letting the sun dry them off, they reapplied sunscreen and settled back to enjoy a quiet afternoon. Killian fell asleep in the lounge chair they rented; Emma read until her own eyelids grew heavy. It was very warm and the soothing sound of the ocean was too much for her. She woke Killian long enough to get him to budge up, and she curled herself against his chest, indulging in a late afternoon catnap.

Killian woke up first, surprised to find Emma in his arms. Not that he was complaining. He just expected her to be reading or doing a crossword. The sun was much lower in the sky than he remembered; he must have been asleep for a while. Unfortunately, he was also parched and their small cooler was out of reach. As gently as he could, he eased out from under Emma to fetch himself a drink. He had the bottle halfway to his lips when Emma stirred.

“Ung,” she mumbled, rolling over. She blinked against the sinking sunlight. “Wha time's it?”

“Bit after four, I think,” he replied, brushing her arm with his fingers. “When did you fall asleep?”

She grunted, turning to see him better. “Not sure,” she admitted. “You looked comfy.”

“Do I look like I'm complaining?” He smiled down at her. “Thirsty?”

She tried to swallow. “Um, yeah.” She moved to sit up, accepting the cold bottle of water he handed her. “Thanks, babe.”

“Want to take another quick swim, lass? Seems a shame we slept the afternoon away.”

“It's not like we're going anywhere,” she pointed out. “We'll be here all week.” She downed about half the bottle, then stood. “We'll go swimming tomorrow. Or the next day. Sound good?”

“You may want to chose less revealing swimwear next time,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Or we may have a repeat of today.”

She laid her head on his chest. “And the problem with that is...?”

“And I thought I was the lecherous one.”

“I think we share that pretty well. But I've been busy with midterms.”

“And Granny working your dainty fingers to the bone.”

“I like working.” He raised an incredulous brow. “Okay, maybe not that much. But I told you, I want to contribute. I don't expect you to just buy stuff for me.” That was their one point of contention. With Killian being the regularly employed partner, he didn't think twice about the added expense Emma's presence brought him. He was used to buying his own groceries and paying the utilities. He just brought enough for two whenever he went shopping now. But Emma was used to paying her own way and hated feeling like she was taking advantage of his generosity.

“We're on vacation,” he pointed out.

“Which is why I didn't complain about the size of our room. Special things are fine. But I'm not a moocher, Killian. I can earn my keep.”

“Emma, you act like our home is some sort of halfway house, like I'm taking you in off the street or something. We're a couple and we live together. You're not a burden, love.”

She stared out at the ocean. “I know that. But I'm not a child. You don't have to protect me.”

“I don't think I could even if I wanted to. I know you can handle things on your own. I just don't think it's a bad thing to let someone help you.”

They were going in circles again. “Can we put a pin in this conversation? We're on vacation, as you helpfully pointed out.”

“Very well. Seems I will have to make the most of my time to spoil you rotten.”

She stood up on her toes and bit his earlobe. “Or you could just fuck me rotten,” she whispered. Then she was gone, off to start packing up their things, leaving him nonplussed. He swore there were times he didn't understand her.

They went back to their suite and showered, opting to order in. Emma made a point of paying for the room service, leaving their waiter a generous tip. Killian stuck his tongue out at her as he opened the bottle of wine. They set up on their beautiful balcony, chatting about Liam and Molly, how poor Molly was coping in the final months of her pregnancy. They spoke about once a week, usually over Skype, unless Molly was feeling poorly. Emma felt bad for her; Molly was an outgoing person and her energy was just sapped. Still, she was coping well, with Liam being more protective than ever. Sometimes Emma let herself wonder how Killian would be if _Emma_ was the one carrying a child. Years, years in the future, of course.

“Good thing about the beach,” she said, spearing some lobster on her fork. “The seafood's always fresh.”

“Aye. It's delicious.”

After they finished the main course, Emma moved to his lap, letting him feed her dessert. “What are these?”

“No idea. Some sort of fruit thing? Good, yeah?”

“Too bad there's no whipped cream,” she said in a low whisper.

“Emma,” Killian said warningly.

“What?”

“Best not to tease unless you were serious about what we discussed on the beach.”

“Why wouldn't I have been serious? Didn't I sound serious?” To make her point, she wiggled in his lap.

He tightened his hold on her. “You know I don't need that, right? You don't have to prove anything to me.”

She turned in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck. “Killian, what's the matter?”

“I don't like fighting with you, lass.”

“Who's fighting? We're not fighting. We're talking about sexcapades.”

“I just...I was just thinking about what we were taking about earlier. I don't want to sweep a disagreement under the rug with sex.”

“Oh.” She thought about that. “Do you want to talk about that some more?”

He traced the line of her spine. “I think we should. Letting things like that fester probably isn't a good thing.”

She sweetly kissed his forehead. “I really love you. You know that, right?”

He smiled softly. “Aye, I do.” He brushed some hair back from her face. “How do you think we should proceed, lass?”

She cocked her head. “Whatever is my means, I want to do.”

“That seems fair. I'm assuming this will be the case going forward at Stanford?”

“Yeah, I've already applied for jobs on campus.”

“Tenacious, I like it.” He twirled some of her hair around his finger. “How would you feel about...combining our finances? That way it's not _your_ money or _my_ money, but ours?”

“Killian...that's a big deal. Are you sure?”

“I've told you, Emma. I'm in this for the long haul.”

“How about this: we have a combined checking but individual savings? And we go over the expenses once a month?”

He considered that. “If it means I get to spend more time with you, then I am for it.”

She laughed. “Did we just figure this out?”

“Aye, I think we did. I knew I loved you for a reason.”

“Hmm, maybe you should tell me,” she said huskily.

“With pleasure.” He kissed her, pulling back when she tried to deepen it. “You're beautiful.” Kiss. “You're sexy.” Kiss. “You're kind.” Kiss. “You want to help other people.” Kiss, lips moving to her throat. “You're adventurous.” Nip to her fluttering pulse. “You're smart.” Kiss to her collar. “You keep me on my toes.” Emma moaned as his hands began to knead her ass. “You chose me.”

Emma bit her lip, lowering her lips to his neck. She shifted, getting a better angle to nibble and suck on his skin. She loved the area right where the neck met the shoulder and she impatiently opened his shirt to get better access. Killian groaned, still kneading the soft globes while she sucked a mark into his skin. “God, Emma,” he hissed. “Are you _certain_ you want this?”

She nodded, fingers moving to tease the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please. I'm all curious now, Professor,” she whispered. He groaned again, being reminded how they met still got to him. “Show me.”

“Legs around me, lass.” She did as he bid, Killian standing to carry her to the bedroom. Emma kept up her attention to his skin, loving the sounds he made. Her blood thrummed under her skin; she was excited, always was when they tried something new. She'd enjoyed their experimentation so far; Killian was so patient with her, making sure she felt good. Deep down, she knew how lucky this made her and she was determined not to squander it.

“I love you,” she whispered into his skin.

“I know, love.” He laid her out on the bed, then he dug in his suitcase for the supplies he'd brought. Their collection wasn't that big and it was still pretty basic. He looked forward to expanding it in the months and years to come. “Don't be afraid to stop me if something doesn't feel good. I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't.” She smiled and pulled him down for a fierce kiss. He moaned into her mouth as she rolled them over. She straddled his hips, breaking the heated kiss long enough to peel her shirt over her head.

“Bloody hell,” he moaned, reaching up to cup her bare breasts. “Please tell me you're not wearing knickers.”

She grinned wolfishly. “What do you think?”

“Vixen. You really want this.”

She kissed down his throat. “Told you; I've imagined it. I know how much you want it too.”

“Only if you do.” His breathing hitched as she palmed his erection. “Fuck.”

“Please do.” She moaned loudly as he twisted and pinched her nipples; Emma was developing an itch for the fine line between pleasure and pain, something else Killian had given her. Being with him showed her parts of herself she hadn't known existed both in and out of the bedroom. She moved her hand and lowered her hips, grinding against him.

“Emma.”

She pushed his hands under her skirt; true to form, she wasn't wearing anything under it. She shivered as his fingers skimmed her puckered hole, easing the cheeks apart. “Yes, oh yes.”

Killian moved his hand, skimming his middle finger through her wetness. She was so slick, skin flushed, lips kiss bruised. He brought the wet finger back to her hole, gently massaging the tight ring of muscle. “Just relax, sweetheart. I've got you.”

She let her head fall to his chest, bent over him as he teased her. “Oh, that feels good.”

“It'll feel even better, I promise you.” He was thick so it would take some preparation to get her good and slick so he didn't hurt her. That was why he'd used the plug on her, to get her used to the sensation. “You love your plug, remember? How good it felt inside you? How it could stretch you? You liked how it felt we fucked, both of your holes full.”

She moaned long and loud; his words brought an echo of that pleasure back and it made her shiver. “It was so good, Killian. You felt so fucking big inside me.”

“You were fucking brilliant, Emma. Always are. Such a tight little body, opening up for me.” As if on cue, his finger pressed inside her, up to the first knuckle. “Fuck, so tight.”

Emma went still, trying to remember to relax. “Oh, oh god.”

“Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, I just...god, I need more.”

Reluctantly, he eased his finger out. He needed more room to maneuver if he was going to do this properly. He kissed the small of her back as he unzipped her skirt and stripped it from her lithe body. He urged her to get up on her knees, kissing down her back as he played with the globes of her ass. “I've got your toys, darling. Use anything you think will feel good. Play with yourself, it'll help.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “And you know how hot it is when you play with yourself.”

Killian stripped off his pants; the confines were just too tight now. And he didn't want to waste time when Emma was ready for him. His cock bobbed against his stomach and he gave it a few strokes, easing the ache he felt. His mouth watered at prospect of claiming that part of her, but he knew it would take patience. He knelt behind her, massaging her ass. He was very fond of her bum; it was curvy and full, filling out those tight jeans she liked to wear. He bent down and spread the globes, running his tongue over the tight muscle. Emma mewled, rocking back into him. His warm tongue felt good on her skin, licking and massaging. “Jesus.”

“I'd much rather you call my name, sweetheart,” Killian teased, leaving a parting kiss to her flesh. He got the lube and spread a liberal amount both on her and his fingers. “Relax.”

Emma nodded and lowered her head. She was braced on her forearms, waiting. It didn't take long for him to ease a single digit into her, gently pushing in and out. She hissed, a shiver shooting down her spine. After a few minutes, Killian slowly added a second, scissoring them as gently as he could. She felt her first flash of pain, but she pushed through it, reaching back to toy with her clit. The pleasure pushed her through the mild discomfort, earning her a groan from Killian.

“That's it, Emma. Touch yourself. So hot.” His cock twitched as he watched her, her fingers dancing expertly over her sopping flesh.

More lube and Killian slipped a third finger inside her ass. “OH!” Emma cried. “Oh yes, yes.”

He chuckled. “Like this?” He increased his pace, finger fucking her ass. “Gonna get you nice and slick, lass. My dirty naughty girl.”

Emma was dripping onto the sheets, arousal making her light headed. She fumbled for her favorite dildo, knowing it would make Killian crazy. She dragged the phallus through her folds before pushing it into her soaked cunt. “Oh fuck.”

Killian's eyes fluttered shut; Emma's wanton play made him crazy. He had to calm down before he embarrassed himself. She kept fucking herself with the toy, little sighs and whimpers tumbling from her lips. “Can I come, Professor? Please? Need to come so much.”

He slowed his fingers in favor of watching her. “Oh yes, my darling. Come for me. Fuck that toy like you mean it.”

She whimpered, hips moving faster. She rode the dildo, Killian's fingers in her ass, her high spiraling out of control. It burst behind her eyes, a scream clawing its way out of her. She rode it out, shivering hard. Killian's fingers slipped out and he rubbed her back. “I'm going to fuck you, Emma,” he said seriously. “I'm going to fuck this perfect ass and it's gonna feel so fucking good. Do you understand?”

She opened her eyes and pulled the dildo out. She felt so empty that she whimpered in complaint. “Fill me up, Professor. Please. I need it. I need your cock in my ass.”

“Good girl.” He kissed between her shoulder blades, then found the lube. He coated his cock with it, groaning. His arousal was painful; watching her get herself off with the dildo was insanely hot. He took a deep breath before lining himself up with the distended hole. Agonizingly slowly, he pressed forward, pausing when the belled head slipped inside. “Bloody _fuck_.”

Emma moaned; she almost expected it to hurt, but there was only a dull stretch. “More.”

He gripped her by the hips, pushing deeper inch by inch. He felt Emma clench around him a few times, which nearly made him cross eyed. “God, Emma. Unbelievable. So good.”

“So good,” she agreed. She squirmed, wishing he would move. He kept his thrusts shallow, letting her body adjust to the penetration. He was big to begin with and this was better than she'd imagined. She was getting impatient again. “I need you, Professor. Fuck me!”

Killian bent over her back, snatching up one of her vibrators. “Use this,” he snarled. He pulled almost all the way out, gave his cock one last squirt of lube then pushed back in. He held her hips firmly, grunting in pleasure as she heeded him and switched on the vibrator. She held the little bullet to her swollen clit, a little scream escaping her lips. The pleasure was so intense, a second orgasm already coiling low in her belly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” she cried, pushing her hips back. Killian could hold back no longer, taking her with deep thrusts, her body open wide for his cock. He hit places she didn't know existed; it was far better than the simple plug. She felt one of his hands swat her ass cheek as he cried out, growling her name, fucking her with abandon. She pressed the bullet hard against her clit and she exploded, pure ecstasy pouring through her veins. It was so intense, she nearly blacked out, barely noticing when Killian followed her, coming _hard_ , emptying himself in her ass.

Killian sagged across her back, utterly spent. Emma slowly sank to the bed, her limbs heavy and numb. He skimmed adoring kisses to her damp skin, knowing he needed to move. He softened and slipped out, gently rolling onto his back. “Emma?”

She hummed something he didn't catch; at least she was conscious. She was boneless, pleasure still buzzing through her. Killian got up and started cleaning up, taking her toys to the bathroom. He cleaned them thoroughly and laid them aside to dry. He returned to Emma, washcloth in hand and his love was asleep. He smiled fondly at her and carefully cleaned her; she barely stirred as he brushed between her thighs.

When he was finished, he stripped off the soiled coverlet and joined her. He spooned her from behind, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Good night, my love. Thank you.”

Emma roused long enough to thread their fingers together over her stomach. “Love you,” she mumbled. “Can we...” She yawned, fighting sleep. “Can we just stay here tomorrow?”

“Sure. I think a lazy day is exactly what we need.”

“You're the best.”

He laughed. “Sleep, sweetheart. We wore you out.”

“Worth it,” she said sleepily.

He kissed the back of her neck, listening as her breathing evened out once more. He burrowed into the pillow and followed her, utterly content.

 


	31. Graduation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's graduating from law school and she asks Killian to be her muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next to last December Prompt!

“Look here, lass!”

Emma pulled away from Molly, rolling her eyes. “Killian, if you don't stop that, you're not getting sex for a month.” Molly snickered.

Killian, however, looked horrified, but quickly recovered. “Emma, love, you and I both know that's an empty threat.”

“Wanna bet? Just keep clicking away with my camera, buddy.” She put on her sternest face, secretly knowing Killian was most likely right. Almost four years after they met and they were just as attracted to each other as they ever were. Still, this was her graduation party and she didn't want to deal with a flash in her face.

Killian studied her for a full minute before putting the camera away. He'd gotten her the thing as a gift after her first graduation, to encourage her interest. It had come in quite handy on their cross country trip and on many of their vacations since. Emma, however, liked to keep their photos private, sharing only certain ones with friends and family. Still, it was her artistic outlet and he took an interest in it, just as she did in his.

“You are so whipped, brother,” Liam hissed in his ear, holding out a beer.

“Bugger off,” he groused, accepting the drink. He took a long pull, watching Emma and Molly out of the corner of his eye. “You know how she feels about the bloody camera.”

“Aye, but that doesn't mean I can't be amused by how quickly you cave.”

“That would be funnier if Molly and Izzy didn't have you wrapped around their fingers.”

Liam laughed. “True. Congratulations, by the way. In person for a change.”

“Thanks. It's been a nervewracking couple of months.”

“I'm impressed you kept it a secret from her.”

“She was engrossed in her exams; it wasn't that difficult. And Elsa helped.” Just before Emma's graduation day, he'd finally popped the question. After three years of living together, he was pretty certain she'd say yes, but he'd been a mess in the days leading up to it. Elsa helped him plan the evening, as well as keeping Emma distracted. Killian was grateful Elsa's new job brought her to the West Coast a year ago. And it made Emma happy.

“Well, as Molly said, it's about bloody time. The two of you are almost sickeningly happy.”

Killian laughed. “Not without trials, brother. There were times when I thought this bloody law school thing was going to drive us both mad.”

“She's driven, you knew that.”

“Aye, I do. Then I got caught up in my first show...I just don't want to go through that again.” The second year was the worst. There was a stretch of time where they hardly saw each other, like ships passing in the night. That summer, they made a pact to never let that happen again, no matter what was going on in their lives. They recharged by traveling, first visiting their family in England, then setting about the Continent. It was the best summer either of them could remember.

“I won't say married life is easy, but I think you two will be fine.”

That meant a lot to him. “Thanks, brother,” Killian replied, smiling.

“Let me see the rock!” Ruby cried, snatching at Emma's hand.

She suppressed a smile and held out her hand. Her friends oohed and aahed over it; Ingrid offered a proud smile. “I'm so happy for you, Emma.”

“Me too.” Killian had surprised her, taking her breath away with the evening. A fancy dinner, a private dance in a beautiful grove. She couldn't believe it when he got down on one knee, his hand shaking from nerves. They'd talked about marriage a few times, mostly on their summer tour of the Continent, but she'd put it out of her mind. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry him—she did—but she just assumed it would happen later. But with her schooling finished and her career about to start...it really was the perfect time.

“Any idea when you want to have the wedding?”

Emma's eyes went wide. “I haven't even thought about it,” she confessed. “Or where. We live here. I think if this job pans out, we might stay.” They hadn't mentioned this to anyone yet. Emma already had an offer to work at the county DA's office. She had a few other offers that paid better but that was the one she wanted. She hadn't chosen this career path for the money. Besides, Killian was really getting a following from his art, just as she predicted. Strictly speaking, they didn't _need_ the money.

Molly smiled sympathetically. “Not to rush you, Emma, but sooner might be better. I might not be able to travel by the end of the year.”

“What?” Emma cried. “Are you...?”

Molly shrugged. “I'm...not sure. I've got an appointment next week. I held off so we could come to see you graduate, but I've got the same symptoms from when I was pregnant with Izzy. Liam doesn't know.”

“Molly, you shouldn't have!” Emma cried vehemently.

“We missed your last one,” she pointed out calmly. “Besides, I'm fine. A little sickness in the morning; I was perfectly healthy at my last check up. Now that you're really going to be my sister, I'm doubly glad we came.”

“We're already sisters, you know,” Emma said, leaning over to hug her. “It means a lot that you guys came.”

“Where is little Izzy?” Ingrid asked, looking around the room. The little girl was spotted trying to get her own plate of food; the three women laughed while Ingrid hurried off to help her.

“Your mother really loves kids,” Molly observed.

“Comes from running a foster home, I guess. She's got the mom thing down. I was really lucky.”

“Izzy gives her a chance to practice being a grandmum,” Molly said wisely. “And she's welcome to it. Izzy adores her.”

Emma laughed. “Maybe a few more years on that, I think. Killian promised we'd build our dream house.”

“That will be lovely, I'm sure. I love that sketch in your house. It looks like a nice place to raise a family. That is something you want, right?”

Emma looked over at Killian, who was deep in conversation with his brother and Elsa's boyfriend Will. “You know, I didn't know for a long time. Even that first time we visited you, I wasn't sure. But now, I think I am. Once we get settled, maybe?”

“Don't feel like you have to rush. Enjoy married life for a while.”

“Sometimes it feels like we're married as it is,” Emma admitted. “It's nice.” That wasn't something she expected to be saying before she met Killian, but it felt right. _They_ were right.

“Come on, let's go enjoy the party!” Molly said, linking her arm with Emma's. The graduation/engagement party was in full swing, Emma planned on enjoying it. She winked at Killian as she passed him, Molly dragging her to share some more girl time with her friends.

It took another hour and a half before things settled down and the couple found each other again. Anna and Kristoff were in charge of the music; their example slowly got people to dance. “May I have this dance, Miss Swan?” a gruff voice asked.

Emma turned to find Killian at her side.”You may, Professor Jones.”

He chuckled as he led them among the other couples. “I thought we agreed to only use that under _very_ special circumstances, love,” he whispered, arms wrapping around her waist.

“I thought you liked being a professor?”

“I do, but with you, that title inevitably leads to lecherous thoughts.”

“What if it's my turn to be the professor?”

He pulled her flush. “I am yours to command, lass. I always have been.”

She toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you. For this.” She glanced around the room. “And this.” She held up her left hand. “I can't wait to be married to you.”

His face softened, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into her lower back. “I've wanted this for a long time, I just wanted you to be ready.”

She leaned in and brushed his lips with hers. “You've been so patient, Killian. It means a lot to me. But I'm ready now. I want that future we talked about in Italy. And in Spain. And in Greece. And in France.” She punctuated each country with a kiss, recalling the memories of dizzying pleasure and heartfelt moments. She never expected to love anyone as much as she loved and adored this man; she couldn't really put it into words. Often, she didn't try, allowing her actions to speak for her.

“I love you so much, Emma.” He spun her around, gathering her against his chest. “And I'm very proud of you.”

“But you're glad it's over?” she teased. They could tease about it now, those few months where it felt like they were losing each other. It just made them more determined to fight for their love.

He smiled wanly. “Aye. I missed you.” He missed her so much his chest hurt. “Nothing is more important than what we have.”

“I missed you too.” She hugged him close, right there in the middle of the song. A life without him in it scared her more than anything. With him, she was truly alive. “Let's open up my gifts, then we can go home,” she whispered. She loved her friends and family, but she wanted to be alone with her fiancé.

He grinned at her, then led her to the gift table. People gathered as Emma dug into the pile; Killian dutifully sat at her side, noting who gave what so they could send thank you notes. Almost all the gifts were of the graduation variety, since their engagement was recent news. Fancy pens, a name plate, a quote for business cards, some mementos of Stanford. Ingrid got her a new laptop with all the bells and whistles. Molly and Liam got her a wig like the ones barristers wore in England as a gag which made everyone laugh.

“That's certainly...interesting,” Elsa observed.

“I'm not taking the bar in England, so don't even think about getting into trouble, Mister,” Emma said, wagging her finger at her future brother in law. Liam just laughed.

Emma hoped to slip out after that, but there was a cake. An ice cream cake, made by Ingrid, so she couldn't turn it down. It was delicious, but Emma felt herself getting impatient. “I'll cover your escape,” Elsa whispered, sidling up to her.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only a little. You're newly engaged, I'm sure no one will be surprised.”

“Do you mind?”

“Of course I don't mind. Go on, get out of here.”

“You're the best, Elsa.” She put down her empty plate and found Killian. “Grab the camera and meet me in the hallway in two minutes.”

“The camera, love?”

She nodded. As long as she'd had it, there was a thought niggling in the back of her mind. Every time she considered it, she'd chicken out. But now...she wanted to take a chance, enjoy the moment. She pretended like she was going to the restroom, snatching her purse from the table on her way out. Just as she asked, Killian emerged a couple of minutes later, camera case slung over his shoulder. “What are you up to, lass?”

She smiled coyly. “You'll just have to wait and see.” She took his hand and led him to the car. He pressed her against it, taking her by surprise, and kissed her deeply. She clung to his suit jacket, melting into his kiss.

“I've wanted to do that all bloody night.”

“It's not like we've never made out in front of people before,” she observed, stealing another kiss. “In France...you got very handsy too.” There were places in France that were very...open and he'd taken her there.

“Aye, but I don't fancy your mother getting an eyeful.” He squeezed her ass. “Or a notion about all the things I want to do to her daughter.”

Emma smiled. “What about all the things I want to do to you?”

“Pray tell.”

“When we get home.”

“Minx.” He kissed her one last time, sucking greedily on her tongue before releasing her. They got in the car and Killian drove them back to their rented home, curious about what she had in store for them. Emma kept herself steady the whole way back; she didn't want to chicken out at the last minute. Killian drew her in erotic poses all the time. She was his muse, he always said so. They'd made countless pieces of art over the years, in a variety of mediums. All except one.

Her hand shook a little as she got out of the car. There was nothing to worry about; they had complete trust in their relationship. If she suggested something, he wouldn't laugh at her. She hoisted the camera case onto her shoulder and followed Killian inside. Once the door was locked behind them, they were kissing again, sweet tender kisses that made her knees weak.

“What do you want, my love?” he said quietly between kisses.

She clung to his forearms, feeling the muscles flex under her fingers. “Isn't it obvious?” she replied with a teasing smile.

“As much as I want you, I can't help but feel you have something specific going on in that head of yours,” he murmured, bathing her throat with kisses. She moaned, clutching at him. “Tell me?”

She yanked his mouth back to hers, kissing him hungrily. He always gave her the confidence to ask for what she wanted. “The camera,” she mumbled.

“How's that?”

She pulled back to see his eyes. And swallowed. “You're always drawing me. Or painting me. I love being your muse, I love us like that. I thought maybe we could try some...photographs? You know, tasteful ones?”

He drew a long finger along her cheek. “Emma, that's...”

“Stupid?”

“No! _No_. I would love to share that with you,” he said earnestly. “I told you a long time ago that I wanted to share everything with you.”

“I remember.” She sighed into his kiss, gripping his biceps as her knees wobbled again. “I've got a memory card I've been saving. I was just...scared?”

“If you're uncomfortable...”

“No, I want to. I want to capture these moments, Killian. Please?”

He could deny her nothing. He took her hand and started to tug her toward their bedroom. They paused often to kiss and fondle, little pieces of clothing finding their way to the floor. Emma had his shirt halfway open by the time they reached the bedroom, her hands slipping under the fabric. They paused in the doorway so she could kiss and lick at his sensitive nipples. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.

“You are beautiful,” she mumbled into his skin. “Love touching you.”

“Emma...”

“Shh. I'm unwrapping my present.” She yanked the shirt free of his trousers and peeled it off. Then she deftly unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops. “Bed, please.”

He obeyed without a word, knowing Emma well enough that she needed to be in control for this. Honestly, he was turned on by her request, having considered the idea himself a few times. But photography were her hobby, so if it happened it had to come from her.

Emma put the camera down and rummaged for the blank memory card. She swapped it out with the nearly full one, knowing Killian was watching her. Part of her hadn't expected him to acquiesce so quickly, but he was always encouraging her to embrace her sexuality. She changed the setting to black and white; in her fantasies the photos were always in black and white. To test it, she set up a picture of Killian, capturing his chiseled jaw, inky hair messy from her fingers, and elegant neck. When she peered at the screen, she felt a throb in her groin; he was achingly gorgeous and she needed him.

“Up to scratch, darling?” he asked, smirking at her.

“Maybe.” She laid the camera aside for a moment and unzipped her dress. She let the garment fall to the floor, revealing the lingerie under it. His dark eyes wandered her body, fingers flexing, itching to touch.

“For me?”

“Always.” She left her heels on as she climbed into the bed. “How, um, intimate do you want to get with these?”

He traced the swell of her cleavage. “I'm game for anything.”

She tried not to lean into his touch. “So if I...wanted a picture of you sucking on my nipple, I could take it?”

He shivered pleasantly. “Been thinking about this a lot, have you?”

“Maybe.”

“As I said, I am yours to command, Emma.”

She leaned down and kissed him briefly, hands sliding down his chest. “In that case...pants. Off. Slowly.” She snatched up the camera as he grinned and started snapping pictures as his hands drifted down his torso. He opened his fly and pushed the offending cloth down, kicking it away with a flourish. She sucked in a breath at his naked form; Killian was always fit and toned, but this time he was modeling for _her._ He took to it with gusto, teasing her as she snapped away. She took all kinds of photos, but she liked the close ups the best, his happy trail, the way his biceps bulged, the curve of his ass. She had to wet her lips as she took a few of his hand loosely pulling on his erection; her clit throbbing in response.

“Fuck, tell me you're wet,” he mumbled, still touching himself. He knew that drove her insane. “You get so wet modeling for me, I can smell you from across the room.” He hadn't fully appreciated being the muse before, how much of a turn on it was. Emma's nipples were stiff in her red lace bra; he yearned to suckle them.

Emma rubbed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache in her core. “I'm wet,” she confirmed. “Fuck, don't stop that.” The camera fell away as she watched him. His hips rocked into his fist, a low moan escaping. “Oh god.”

“You feel it, don't you, lass?” he murmured, licking his lips. “That need to be inside you. To fill up that lovely cunt.”

Emma nodded, her hand sliding into her panties. She mewled as she rubbed the slick flesh. “Feels so good when you're in me. Need you.”

“I'm gonna draw you like this,” he said, slowing his hand but still watching her. He didn't want this over too soon. Not until he could feel her tight sheath surrounding him. “Hand down your knickers, nipples hard and begging to be sucked. You're a bloody vision.”

“Camera,” she panted, circling her clit. “Use it.”

“Bloody hell.” He expected him to be the focus of their game but he didn't dare say no. If she was embarrassed later, they could delete them. He hoped she wouldn't; Emma was gorgeous and had nothing to be embarrassed about. He snatched up the fallen camera and turned it on her, the flash echoing in the room as she touched herself.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she whimpered, fingers dipping into her dripping hole.

Killian groaned, snapping the occasional picture as he watched her climb higher. There was nothing more glorious than his Emma in the throes of passion. Her pale skin flushed, lips swollen and parted, eyes black. She spread her knees and fingered herself in earnest, lost in her pleasure, fully aware of Killian's eyes on her. The bed creaked as she rode her fingers, whimpers spilling from her lips, muscles taut as she finally shattered, crying out.

Killian caught her as she fell. “Such a good girl,” he murmured. “Love you so much.” He kissed her temple and brought her fingers to his lips and licked them clean. “Hmmm.”

“Killian?”

“Apologies, lass. I just can't resist your taste.”

She smiled lazily. “I've never complained about that. Usually works out well for me.”

He smirked and brandished the camera. “Now I believe you had a request?”

She chewed her lip. “Oh please.” She arched into his touch as he palmed her breast. Killian pulled down the cup and plucked the nipple, earning him a gasp. He unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, mouth descending on her flesh. He lashed at the hardened bud with his tongue, then pulled on it gently with his teeth. Emma yelped and arched, fumbling for her camera. Killian looked at her cheekily as she snapped a few photos of him suckling at her breast. More wetness pooled between her thighs and she tried to get him to touch her.

“Aha,” he admonished. He switched his attention to her other breast, molding his hand to its twin. “Mine.”

Emma abandoned the camera and wove her fingers into his hair. She was drowning and burning up at the same time as he played her like a finely tuned instrument. Her stomach trembled as she writhed and Killian grinned wolfishly. He kissed his way down over her belly, her mound. He parted her legs, scruff burning over her skin. “Oh shit.”

He growled low in his throat. “Did you imagine this, love? A picture of me between these lovely thighs? Tell me.”

“Oh god yes,” she moaned, rolling her hips. “Please!”

“There's my girl.” He licked her, humming against her. He toyed with her clit, scraped his teeth over it, sucked greedily. She gasped and moaned, head thrashing. It took all of her willpower to close her fingers on the camera. He let up just long enough to steady her hand so she could take the picture. After the flash died he ate her greedily, rimming her entrance with his finger. She climaxed hard, completely undone by him. After bringing her down, he rolled her onto her side and spooned her, his erection nestled against her ass. “Okay, sweetheart?”

Emma hummed happily. “Damn, you're good at that.”

“And you are brilliant, my Emma.”

“I can tell,” she teased, lightly rolling her hips against him.

“Love...bloody hell.”

She reached behind her and started to stroke. “You know I can take more,” she said huskily. She was still a little breathless from her first two orgasms, but she loved all the things Killian could do to her. “I _want_ more. I want your cock.”

He grabbed the camera and pointed it at them, snapping random pictures of them from the waist down as she touched him. Then he tossed it aside and tipped her chin back so he could kiss her. She moaned into his kiss, hitching her leg back over his hip. She felt his thickness slip through her sodden flesh; they both moaned. She reached down and guided him; the warm tip rubbed her clit deliciously. “Jesus, Emma,” he mumbled. “Need you.”

She angled her hips and took him in, moaning loudly as he stretched her. “Oh god yes.”

Killian held her close, rocking deeply into her, reveling in her heat. They kissed sloppily, no finesse in their coupling. She loved this heated lovemaking, messy and passionate. He filled her so well like this, hitting all the right places. She jerked when he struck her g spot and he took her faster, striking the same place over and over again.

“So good, so _good_ ,” Killian mumbled in her ear. “So tight, love.”

“Touch me,” she begged, another high just out of reach. _“Please.”_

His fingers brushed her clit, rubbing furiously. He snapped his hips into hers, his other hand pinching her nipple. Emma arched and screamed, trembling as she climaxed again, clamping down on his thickness. Killian grunted, rutting through it until his own climax claimed him. They sagged into the mattress, panting hard, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Emma shivered when Killian pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. Weakly, she found his hand, squeezing lightly. “Damn.”

He chuckled. “Indeed.” He pulled her close, unwilling to move yet. “Perfect.”

“Let's see how the photos look first.”

He smirked. “I already know this is the best idea you've ever had, my love.”

“You don't know that!” she cried, pretending to take offense.

“I surely do. You're bloody brilliant.”

“You're very calm about this.”

“I quite enjoyed being your muse.”

She turned. “Really?”

“Aye. Now I know why you love it so much.”

She blushed. “I really do.”

He kissed her swiftly, then reluctantly headed to the bathroom. Emma forced herself up and followed him; together, they cleaned up. They shared lazy kisses before heading back to bed. Feeling a bit nervous, she found her camera at the end of the bed. She turned it back on and went to scroll through the pictures. Killian held her, pressing sweet kisses to her bare shoulder as they studied their work. The results were better than Emma expected.

“Wow,” she said quietly.

“Still believe I didn't enjoy myself?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Okay, fine.” She looked over her shoulder. “What should we do with them?”

“Whatever you wish, love.”

She didn't know what to say to that. “I think I want to keep some of them?”

“We can keep them all, you know. We have my private sketchbooks. We can do the same for these.”

She shivered. “You'd be okay with that?”

“If you are. It's not any different from our other art projects.”

She thought about that, about all the pieces they'd done together. “Okay. I trust us.”

He grinned, kissing her cheek. “Well said, Mrs. Jones.”

“ _Swan_ -Jones,” she countered, elbowing him lightly. “And we're not married yet.”

“You can't blame a man for being excited the love of his life has agreed to be his wife.”

She flushed. “I'm excited too.”

“We've got so much more to look forward to, Emma. This is just the beginning.”

She turned and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Killian.”

“And I you, Emma.” He laid the camera aside and got them settled. Then he kissed her hair before picking up their latest book and reading aloud until Emma fell asleep in his arms.

 


	32. Baby Makes Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Emma and Killian's first child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final prompt for December AU month. Enjoy!

“Killian! Have you seen the wicker basket?”

Killian ducked out from under the Christmas tree, a little water spilling from the cup he was using to water it. They'd gotten a real tree for their first Christmas in their newly built dream home; he'd been unable (once again) to resist Emma's pleading emerald eyes. Thankfully, it was New Year's Eve and they could get rid of the bloody thing tomorrow. “I think it's in the attic, love,” he called. “I'll fetch it.”

She poked her head out from the kitchen. “I can get it.”

“You're already three days late, sweetheart. You heard what the doctor said.”

She scowled at him. “I feel fine. It's only stairs!”

He returned to the kitchen, setting his cup aside and cradling her round stomach in his large hands. “And what if you went into labor on those narrow steps? We didn't design them for someone of your girth.”

She still looked annoyed, even though she knew he was right. “I feel like a hippo,” she said crossly.

He didn't laugh. Her moods were delicate these days. “You're gorgeous.”

“Stop being nice. I can't even see my feet!”

“You're always going to be stunning to me, love. Might as well accept it.”

She sighed. “I know. I'm just being a grump. I wish our little girl would hurry up already.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “She's stubborn like her mother.”

Emma moved to lay her head on his chest. She was annoyed that they couldn't hug properly anymore; she was simply too big. Killian wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed before rubbing her back. “The others will be here soon.”

“Let them. Perhaps your mum could take over the snacks. Would you like me to rub your feet?”

“Would you?” she asked hopefully.

“Anything for you, darling.” He guided her toward the couch in the family room, leaving the half made snacks and drinks for their loving family to deal with later. He didn't think anyone would mind; the ladies, at least, had some idea of how uncomfortable this was for his wife. The imminent arrival of their wee lass was the reason the family was celebrating the holidays in California in the first place. When they realized how close Emma's due date was to Christmas, their annual London trip had to be canceled. Instead, their family came to them; Liam, Molly and their little ones rented a nearby house for the holidays. Ingrid had been there since Thanksgiving, determined not to miss the birth of her first grandchild.

Emma flopped more than sat when they got to the couch, groaning in annoyance. “I'm all ungainly,” she complained.

“It'll be over soon. Won't it, little one?” he murmured to her stomach. “It's very rude to keep your mother waiting like this.”

That got her to smile warmly. Now matter how uncomfortable she was, seeing Killian talk to their daughter filled her with joy. He was going to be a wonderful father. “And what about dad? How's he doing?”

Killian settled on the floor, taking her right foot into his hands. She sighed happily as his hands began to work their magic. Those hands had saved her so many times over the past few months. Sometimes she joked that he should consider becoming a masseuse as a second career. He smiled at her. “A bit nervous,” he admitted. “Anxious to meet our daughter.”

The tenderness in his voice, the warmth in his blue gaze, caused a lump in her throat. Damn hormones. “Keep talking,” she murmured. “She likes listening to you talk.”

“As you wish.” He switched feet and launched into a story from when he and Liam were small, some little boy mischief, and Emma felt the little one stir slightly. She always responded to Killian's voice. Honestly, it was more for Emma than for her baby; the smooth sound of Killian's accent relaxed her when her nerves were frazzled. And the last few days, as her due date came and went, her nerves were definitely frazzled.

Killian talked until his wife fell asleep; poor thing was exhausted these days. He gently covered her with a blanket and let her nap for a bit. He went back to the preparations for the party, fetching the wicker basket Emma had been looking for earlier. Ingrid arrived, carrying another bag of baby items.

“Shopping again?” Killian asked, taking the bag from her.

“Guilty,” Ingrid admitted. “Where's Emma?”

“Asleep. She was feeling a bit cranky earlier. These last few days have been hard for her.”

“You don't think anything's wrong?”

He shook his head. “The doctor said Emma was the picture of health. Wee lass just doesn't want to make her appearance yet.”

“For Emma's sake, I hope she comes soon. I'm worried about her.”

“Honestly? So am I. The books say the first birth is the hardest. I hate seeing her suffer.”

“Let's just try and keep her as comfortable as possible then,” Ingrid said hopefully. Together, they returned to the kitchen and finished getting things ready. When the snacks were taken care of, Killian went to check on Emma while Ingrid went to put her purchases in the nursery. Killian was proud of that room; they'd painted the walls themselves, custom designed all the furniture. It was pirate themed, something they decided on before they even knew if they were having a boy or a girl. It was heartily approved of by Liam's Izzy, old enough now for opinions on the matter. Killian's niece adored Emma; she spent the holidays scurrying after her aunt, shushing people for being too loud.

Emma was still asleep when Liam and Molly showed up, so the party began in the living room. If she didn't wake up in another hour, then Killian resolved to wake her himself.

Emma rolled over, or tried to. She was stymied by her belly, which stirred her from her nap. “Ugh,” she groaned, covering her eyes with her arm. She could vaguely hear people in other parts of the house; she must have slept longer than she thought. It was hard to feel rested; she was constantly tired. And she had to pee. Again.

Reluctantly, she heaved herself up; the bathroom was on the way to the living room. She tossed the blanket aside, not remembering how she got it. It must have been Killian. She made a note to thank him when she found him. She used the facilities and washed her hands, staring at her refection in the mirror. Killian may think she was beautiful, but she didn't feel it. She felt bloated and exhausted, very unattractive. “Come on, you,” she said to her belly. “Mom and Dad want to hold you, okay?”

Nothing happened and she sighed. But as she turned away, she felt a sudden twinge in her belly. She stopped dead, hand flying to her stomach. “Ow.” But she'd had twinges before (not as sharp), so she brushed it off. Instead, she headed for the living room, the noises of her family getting louder. “Hey everyone.”

Killian was at her side in a moment, kissing her temple. “Welcome back, sweetheart. Have a good nap?”

“Yeah,” she began, wincing as another twinge gripped her. “Shit.”

“Emma?”

She took a deep breath, hand back on her belly. “I...uh, I'm not sure, but...” There it was again, the sharp twinge. She hissed. “I think the baby's coming.”

Killian swallowed, arm going around her waist. “Are you certain?”

“No? It's not like I've done this before!” Panic was rising in her throat, unsure of what her body was telling her.

Molly stepped forward. “Emma, look at me,” she said sternly. Emma did. “Focus. Where does it hurt?”

“Here?” she said, pointing to the sides of her belly. “Molly?” Her voice rose as another pain gripped her, a little stronger than the last.

“Breathe,” Killian and Molly said together. Then Molly smiled. “Well, I think you're right, Emma. Your daughter's on her way.”

“Right,” Killian said anxiously. They'd prepared but he was oddly disconnected from it. All he could see was Emma frightened and in pain. She fumbled for his hand, which galvanized him. He squeezed her waist. “Can you stay with Molly while I get your bag, love?”

“I'll get it,” Liam said hurriedly. “Do not leave her.”

“It's in the bedroom!” Killian yelled after his brother. He was suddenly thankful his brother was there; Liam and Molly had done this twice. “Emma, let's get you to the car, okay?”

She winced at the idea of walking but nodded. “Okay.” She smiled weakly at Ingrid as they passed. “Come with us?”

“We're right behind you,” Ingrid assured her. She smiled at Emma, hiding her concern. She couldn't help it, excitement and worry warring in her. Liam returned, bag in his hand. Molly gathered the children; everyone was going to the hospital.

“You can ride with us, Ingrid,” Molly said as Emma and Killian headed for their car. Emma gripped Killian's hand tightly, more scared than anything. None of their classes had prepared her for how scary it was.

“Only ten minutes to the hospital,” Killian reminded her softly. “You're both going to be fine.”

She looked up at him as he helped her into the car. “I'm scared,” she whispered.

His heart melted and he awkwardly pulled her into his arms. “It's going to be okay, love.” He kissed her lips. “I promise you. I'll be here every minute. You won't be alone. Do you believe me?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good girl.” He stoked her belly. “Hold on for a little bit longer, lass. We'll see you soon.” Emma laughed at him and he felt better. He helped her with her seatbelt, then hurried to the driver's side. He drove as fast as he dared; Emma fumbled for his hand when another pain gripped her.

Killian darted through traffic, cursing softly, not taking his eyes off the road. He wouldn't do anything to endanger his wife and daughter. He helped Emma out as soon as they arrived, supporting her as they headed inside. He barely opened his mouth to the on call nurse before a wheelchair was coming around the corner. Emma fell into it, wincing in pain.

“When did the contractions start?” the nurse asked crisply.

“About a half hour ago?”

“Water broken?”

“No,” Emma hissed.

“Okay, let's get you up to the maternity ward. You're in for a long night.”

Emma groaned but made no protest. Killian pushed her to the elevator himself, advising the nurse of their doctor's name and other pertinent information. The nurse promised to bring Emma's paperwork forthwith, leaving them in the charge of the maternity nurses. Killian flat out refused to leave as they worked to get Emma into a gown, a task complicated by her water finally breaking. His clothes were soaked, but he wouldn't change until Emma was settled. He accepted some scrubs and changed into those once he and Emma were alone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, taking a moment to breathe. She hadn't been in labor very long and already she was exhausted.

“I didn't like those pants anyway,” he assured her, pulling on the soft blue scrubs.

“They looked good on you.”

“Did they?” He held out his arms, spinning around. “How about this?”

She grinned. Even now, she could see how hot her husband was. “Let's just say you should hold on to those. Might come in handy some day.”

He approached her bedside. “Feeling the urge to play doctor, love?” he teased.

She laughed, which melted into a groan as another contraction lanced through her. “Isn't that how I got like this in the first place?”

“Oh, I don't think we've ever done that one,” he said, pretending to think. “Perhaps it was the pirate captain and her handsome prince.”

“Hmm, that was a good one.” Their sex life was as varied and lively as ever, something that came in handy during her second trimester. She was afraid she would wear him out with how needy she'd been. “Our little pirate.”

“Aye.” He kissed her sweaty brow. “Try to rest. I'm sure the doctor will be here soon.” He was right, no sooner had Emma closed her eyes than the doctor was coming in to examine her.

Killian stayed by her side as the young doctor looked between Emma's legs. “Hmm, everything looks normal. You're only about two centimeters, Mrs. Jones. This young lady is taking her time.”

“Can you give her something for the pain?” Killian asked.

“Not yet. If we do the epidural too soon, it'll wear off. And trust me, you don't want that. I know it's uncomfortable, but just hang in there for a few more hours.”

“Hours?!” Emma screeched.

“We discussed this. First births tend to take a long time. We'll take good care of you.” The doctor turned to Killian. “Do you want to fill out her paperwork while you wait? Then perhaps help her walk around a little. Sometimes that helps.”

“I'm not leaving her.”

“That's why they invented tablets,” the woman said with a smile. She handed him the tablet. “Just give this to the nurse when you're finished. I'll be back later.”

Killian nodded, then made sure Emma was as comfortable as possible before he started filling out the forms. Their family arrived shortly after, entertaining Emma as they waited. And waited. And waited. Emma gripped his hand when the pain got to be too much. They took the doctor's advice and tried walking around but it just made her tired. It was more than five hours before the doctor would administer the drugs; Emma soon felt better, despite the increased rate of her contractions. It was at that point that the others were ushered out, leaving Emma and Killian alone.

“Maybe this was what she was waiting for,” Emma mumbled, laying her head on Killian's shoulder. He'd climbed into the gurney with her, growling at anyone who tried to move him.

“What's that, lass?”

“The baby. Maybe she was waiting for everyone to be here. Everyone we love.”

He smiled into her hair. “Well, they've been here for a couple of weeks now. You'd think she'd have made her appearance sooner.”

“Christmas,” she muttered. “No kid wants to share their birthday with Christmas.”

“Perhaps you're right. She'll be a New Year's baby instead.”

“At least we won't have trouble remembering her birthday.”

“As if either of us could forget. I remember every important day I've spent with you.”

“I just want her to be healthy.”

“She will. Then we'll take her home. Our family, Emma.”

“Our family,” she echoed. She twisted enough to kiss him, lips lingering on his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Both of you.”

* * *

It was nearly dawn when they finally wheeled Emma into the birthing room. Killian had his mask, cap and booties in place, anxiousness clawing at his throat. “Just breathe, Emma,” he said, unsure who he was trying to reassure.

“He's right,” the doctor echoed. “Remember to breathe and push when I say. We'll have your daughter here in no time.”

“It's been twelve hours,” Emma muttered in complaint. “No time my ass.”

The doctor said nothing, ducking under the sheet once more “On the next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can, okay?”

Emma nodded, bracing herself. In moments a strong contraction gripped her and she bit her lip as she lunged forward. Killian helped her as much as he could, never letting go of her hand. She didn't want to think about how much this would hurt without her shot, but it was still the hardest thing she'd ever done. It took four more lunges, with Killian whispering encouragement, before a high pitched cry filled the room. Emma collapsed, exhausted, sweat running down her neck.

Killian was torn between looking after his wife and trying to get a look at his daughter. “How is she?”

“Ten fingers, ten toes and adorable,” the doctor said with a smile. “Let us get her cleaned up and you can hold her.” The tired parents caught a brief glimpse of their girl as her cord was cut, healthy screams actually making them smile.

“She's inherited your lungs,” Killian teased, kissing her damp forehead. “You were brilliant, my love.”

“And just what are you implying?” Emma complained, swatting his shoulder.

“Nothing.” He kissed her sweetly, needing to cover his impatience. He wanted to hold his daughter.

“Here you go,” a matronly nurse said quietly. She had a bundle in her arms, wrapped in a white blanket. “Mom?”

Killian helped Emma sit up, tears stinging his eyes as she held out her arms. The nurse eased the baby into her mother's arms, then backed away. Emma felt a tear slide down her cheek as she gazed into her daughter's eyes. She had blue eyes exactly like her father's. “Hi,” Emma whispered, gently touching her forehead. “I'm your mom.”

The baby gurgled, blinking up at her. Killian wrapped his arm around her, unable to tear his eyes away. He had no words for what he felt, aside from love. He loved these two people like he had never loved anything. “Hello, little one.”

Emma smiled. “That's your dad,” she cooed, stroking her daughter's soft cheek. “He's the best, so you should get used to that.”

“I happen to think your mum exaggerates, lass. She's the amazing one.”

They both laughed. “So what do you think?” Emma said, looking at her husband. “Still like the name?” They chose something months ago, but wanted to meet their daughter before choosing it definitively.

Killian nodded. “Aye. I think it suits her. Alexandra Ingrid Jones.”

“Alex,” she agreed. “Welcome to the world, Alex.” She turned to Killian. “You want to hold her?”

“Aye.” He moved, shaking a little as Emma placed Alex in his arms. To his surprise, his daughter didn't cry; she just waved her tiny fist at him. “I love you very much, Alex,” he whispered, placing a featherlight kiss to the baby's downy head. She had only wisps of dark hair; Killian was sure Alex would have her mother's golden locks some day.

Emma started crying softly, but they were happy tears. She finally had what she'd dreamed of as a child. She had a _home._ A home with the man she loved more than anything. And now they had a child of their own. Her heart was so full, it felt like it would burst out of her chest. Killian saw her tears and handed little Alex back to her, hugging them both. “Don't cry, darling.”

“I'm just happy,” she whispered, pressing kisses to Killian's cheek and Alex's forehead. “I have my family here.”

“Here's to many more years of happiness,” he said, kissing her.

“A lifetime's worth,” she agreed.

 


End file.
